Of Murder and Memories
by shards-of-darkness
Summary: Day is haunted by a girl he knew in his past. When he moves back to LA, will he remember the girl he once loved? Meanwhile, June is being target by an anonymous killer who threatens to kill everyone she loves. This mysterious murderer is always one step ahead of her and has an unknown motive. Can she stop him before it's too late or has June finally met her match? Post Champion.
1. Chapter 1: June

**Chapter 1: June**

My eyes fix on the dark sky as I stroll down the dim lit streets. The darkness seems to recede, shying away and growing faint. The sun will come up soon- eight minutes to be exact, at 6:03 a.m. My apartment in Ruby is approximately 756 steps away, which means that I can catch a glimpse of the sunrise before entering the building if I walk slow enough.

The sky is tinted light pink, the sun tiptoeing over the horizon like it's climbing metal rungs of a ladder, not stopping until it finally reaches the top. It drags up shades of red and orange that clash in the sky until they have completely devoured the soft pink color.

It's the start of a new day, a start of a new life. I close my eyes, his voice running through my head again and again: _"__Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything's possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, you take it all one day at a time...You try to walk in the light."_ A shiver runs down my back at his words. A pang of sadness stabs my heart as I think of Day. I miss him. I miss him so much.

I shake the last trace of him before turning my back from the sun. I reach for my keys.

I'm about to open the door when I hear shouts. "Commander! Commander Iparis!" I look over my shoulder to find two cadets running towards me. "What's wrong?" I ask, studying the distraught looks in their eyes.

The two give me quick salutes before a cadet answers, "It's Captain Amy Ross. She's severely injured. The ambulance is coming but she requested for you." As if on cue, the high pitched wail of an ambulance pierces the morning air.

I follow the sound, running straight to the Emerald Sector which is only three blocks away. The cadets are right at my heels.

Medics are strapping a young woman with blond hair to the stretcher, applying pressure to the bleeding wound on her torso. The gaze of her green eyes meets mine. "Commander," she whispers through bloody lips, her hand weakly stretching out towards my direction.

I get into the back of the ambulance, right by her side. The engine rumbles, the siren screaming as it drives off. "Amy," I say, out of breath as I look at the blood that stains her uniform.

"Commander," she cries out again.

"I'm here, Amy. I'm right here," I say, trying my best to comfort her.

"She's not going to make it," a Medic murmurs in my ear but I brush him off.

Amy's eyes are wide and glassy. Tears run down her cheeks, mixing with dark blood. "My sister-" she chokes out. "S-Selene. You have t-to take care of h-her," she forces out, her chest heaving with effort. I hold her hand tightly as she begins to spit up blood.

Amy holds on to me firmly, her hand almost crushing the bones in my left hand. "P-Promise me," she whispers. "Promise you'll take c-care of her."

I look into her fading eyes. "I promise."

She relaxes at that. "Thank you," she murmurs, her eyelids beginning to flutter shut. "Thank you." Her words faint at the end as she grows still. For a moment, I'm numb, feeling the warmth fade from her hand. I blink away tears. _Not here. Not now. _

I swallow hard and let go of her hand. Before a Medic covers Amy with a white sheet, details rush in. There's blood on the back of her head, meaning the killer must've grabbed her from behind, smashed her head against the wall, before sinking their knife an inch above her navel. The gash is deep, trailing four inches upwards. The clean stroke tells me that the killer is trained, and probably used a standard 10 inch military combat knife to kill Amy. What confuses me is this: if the killer is trained, why hadn't they killed her quickly? The cut was deliberate- an inch more and it could've pierced her right lung.

The ambulance jolts to a stop two minutes and twenty-four seconds after Amy's death. The driver jumps out of the vehicle and opens the back doors. He pulls out the stretcher and as he does, I see the flash of a strange marking on Amy's pale hand. Instinctively, I grab it, studying what appears to be the number 53 carved into her palm.

The killer must've made that, too, since the cuts are fresh. But why? Why the number 53? What is so important about that number? What does it mean? And why her? Why Amy? None of my questions are answered.

I jolt out of my thoughts when I realize that a doctor is speaking to me. "Ma'am? Commander, can you please let go of the victim's hand?" I notice that the stretcher is still halfway out of the ambulance. I obey, dropping Amy's cold hand.

The doctor takes a quick look at Amy before shaking her head. "Bring her into the morgue. We'll examine the body for any evidence later."

"I want you to do it _now_," I order the doctor, jumping out of the back of the ambulance. "I need to know who's responsible for this."

"We must contact her relatives before we can do any of that. Her sister's already waiting in the lobby," the doctor answers. My face grows pale at that. I am nowhere near ready to tell Amy's sister that she's dead.

* * *

I wash Amy's blood off of my hands before walking into the hospital lobby. Nurses bustle around, passing by the young blond girl (about 16 or 17) without a second thought. Amy's sister is curled up in a gray chair, her legs pulled into her chest. Her fingers drum against her knees anxiously.

I exhale a deep breath, reciting the words I'll say to her in my head. But how am I supposed to deliver the news? How am _I_ supposed to look into her eyes and watch her world crumple and burn down?

_Get rid of your emotions. Get rid of your emotions,_ I repeat in my head over and over as I walk up to the girl.

"You must be Selene," I say, sitting down in the chair next to her. "I'm Commander Iparis."

Selene looks stunned, straightening her posture and sending me a respectful salute. "It's an honor," she stammers out, her green eyes wide. I can already tell she'll be a loyal soldier like her sister.

I cringe inwardly as I say, "I came here to talk about your sister."

The awestruck smile on her face shatters. "Is my sister hurt? What happened?" she pounces on me with urgent questions.

"We should go somewhere more private," I say, standing up and leading her into an empty hallway.

"Is Amy hurt? Is that why I'm here?" Selene asks, desperate for answers.

I inhale a sharp breath as I face her. "Your sister was a good soldier. She died a noble death," I say.

"No." Selene shakes her head vigorously, strands of blond hair falling out of her once neat bun. "No. You're lying." She raises her voice. "You're lying! Amy's not dead. She can't be! My sister isn't dead!" her voice rises to a scream. It echoes down the vacant corridor.

I feel tears forming in my eyes. "I know what you're going through. My brother was murdered when I was your age. But Amy's still with you. She'll always live in your heart-"

"Liar!"

A nurse comes, leading Selene away to a room where the body of her sister lies. I reluctantly follow. By the doorway of the small, stark white room (10 feet by 11.5 feet), I watch Selene begin to freeze and her breathing pattern slow down. She touches her sister's lifeless face before lets out a guttural scream of grief and sorrow. Selene crumples to her knees, beginning to sob.

Tears pour down my face as I turn my back from the room. It hits too close to home.

Life seems like a cruel joke, allowing history to repeat itself to mock us. It is all too familiar. A good soldier has been murdered in an alley. A young girl is left an orphan. But this time, this time, I will not mess up. I will find the killer. And I will avenge her death.

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Day

Day

My memories like to flit around in my dreams. Sometimes they're vivid, like the deaths of my mother's and John's. Other times, they are just murky pieces. My dream starts with a girl. She sits on the edge of the building, swinging her legs back and forth in the air, undisturbed by the fact that she's twenty stories in the sky.

As I step closer to the girl, she turns her head towards my direction, a soft smile curved on her lip. Her dark hair is pulled back into an elegant but simple ponytail, flaunting the natural beauty of her face. Her gold flecked eyes are analyzing every movement I make.

"Day," she says, smiling as if I were an old friend of hers.

"Who are you?" I whisper as I come closer to the beautiful girl.

"I thought you'd remember," says the girl, tilting her head to the side. My heart races at her gaze.

"Are you real?" My hand is extending to touch her shoulder.

The girl shrugs, pulling away. "I can't tell myself." A mischievous smile grows on her lips. "Let's find out." She tilts forward and launches herself from the edge of the building.

"No!" I'm screaming as the girl plummets towards the streets, where hands made of shadows grasp her ankles, dragging her down until she is swallowed by darkness.

I'm still staring down at the streets below, searching for the body that has miraculously disappeared. Where'd she go?

_Creak_.

The floor underneath me suddenly groans at my weight. Tiny fractures grow underneath my feet, spreading out like a spider web. Lines begin to merge, creating tiny chasms that further compromise the amount of weight this roof can endure.

The gray concrete floors begin to crumple to dust. I scream as I fall, the air mercilessly howling in my ears. Everything turns dark.

* * *

All I can think about is escaping. The streets are dark, only lit by dim street lights. The air smells rotten meat and blood. I cringe at the scent.

There's a young captain pointing his gun at me. "Freeze. Stay where you are," he commands. "Hands up. You're under arrest for theft, vandalism, and trespassing."

My voice sounds rough and hoarse, although with a rawness of childhood. "You're not going to take me in alive."

"I'd be happy to take you in dead, if you prefer," says the captain. His eyes glow in the moonlight, making me realize that he has the exact same eyes as the girl from before.

I can't control myself. My head is screaming for me to stop, but my hands defy me, grabbing ahold of the knife. I pull it out from my belt, throwing it towards the captain's chest with all my might. I don't see where it lands, but I know I never miss a target. The man stumbles and falls to the ground. He doesn't get back up.

_Did I just kill someone?_

_I didn't mean to._

_Did I?_

Frantic thoughts race in my head as I run in the sewers. I run blindly through the maze, going west, where the sewers lead into the ocean. Somehow, I manage to slip past the gates like water, flowing into the ocean.

I am greeted with waves of fresh, salty water. I choke on it before beginning to swim. _I have to get out of here as fast as possible._ Just after a few strokes, I feel exhausted and drained of energy. My arms are stiff and refuse to keep moving. The ocean's tossing me around like I weigh nothing, as if I were a mere rag doll.

Something cold grasps my ankles, pulling me under. I fight, gasping for air as water sloshes into my lungs. As dark spots grow in my vision, the girl appears again, her eyes filled with tragedy. "Why did you kill him? He was my brother. He was a good person. How could you?"

"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I'm sorry."

The girl looks at me coldly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You deserve to die," she whispers, her hands shaking.

And I take in my last breath before I sink

down,

down,

down.

"Day, wake up," says a familiar voice, shaking me. I jolt awake, gasping for air. "Another bad dream?" asks Eden, who sits at the foot of my bed.

Sweat drips down my brow and my chest heaves. My hair feels damp. I shake my head wordlessly. "It was real," I whisper. I look at my younger brother, who's staring at me with puzzlement. "It was a memory of something…something I did in the past."

"I'm sure it was just a dream," he says reassuringly.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I killed someone, Eden. I'm a murderer."


	3. Chapter 3: June

**It's been so long since I updated! I'm so sorry for the long wait, but of course, school just _had_ to take all my free time away with homework and tests. **

**Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

June

**1524 Hours.**

**Primo Hospital, Sector Ruby.**

**64** **º Indoors.**

I pace back and forth in the hallway anxiously, waiting for the pathologist to come back with results. I've been waiting for the doctor for thirty-eight minutes so far. By then, I had already ordered a soldier to escort a hysterical Selene back to her apartment.

The door to the morgue suddenly opens, the doctor exiting holding a clipboard. I intercept her, demanding, "Well? Anything?"

"I was able to recover a few fingerprints from the victim's body. I have yet to run it through a DNA database to match its owner."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really, Commander Iparis. However, if you want to see the process, you can come with me," says the doctor, flustering. She leads me to a small, dark room. Judging from the size and the clutter, I can only assume that this is her personal office. The pathologist turns on the florescent lights.

I take a quick glance at her nametag, and the medical diplomas on the wall. All of them have her name, Geneva Mire, engraved in gold. As she scans the fingerprints into the system, I study her. She must be around twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. It's strange that someone so young has this many diplomas and awards.

Dr. Mire types in a few commands on her computer, icons lighting up on the thin screen. Millions of faces begin to flicker across the screen as the computer tries to match the fingerprints to its owner. It suddenly lands on a photo of a young man with tousled brown hair. I bend over so that my face is at the same level as the computer on the desk.

My eyes widen and my breath catches in my throat. I know him. It's Soldier Liam Stryder, the second in command of Amy's squad. I take a step back.

"Thank you," I manage to tell the doctor before abruptly turning to the door. I give her a quick nod of gratitude before exiting the room and walking down the hallway. I click my tongue, turning on my com and contacting a patrol to wait for me at the Opal Sector, where Soldier Liam Stryder's apartment is.

By the time I get to the front of the apartment, a squad of five elite soldiers is patiently waiting for me. They all fall into a respectful salute, which I wave off. "No one is to be hurt," I say. "Do not fire a shot unless I give you a signal." The soldiers nod obediently.

I enter the building first, soldiers guarding me on both sides. I raise my military rifle, using the butt of the gun to break open the door. Liam jumps back in surprise, dropping the glass of sparkling water on the floor as soldiers barge into his living room. His dark hair is even more tousled and unruly than in his photo. "What's going on?" Liam yelps frightfully, his wide blue eyes staring at my gun.

"Put your hands above your head and kneel!" I command, aiming my gun at him. Liam stays frozen. "Put your hands above your head and kneel!" I repeat again more forcefully. His knees buckle and he kneels, raising his hands.

I signal for the soldier on my right to go handcuff Liam and for the others to start searching the apartment. "Soldier Liam Stryder, you are under arrest for the murder of Captain Amy Ross." I look at him with disgust. Why kill a soldier for power?

Liam's eyes grow wider, if even possible. "What?" His voice goes an octave higher. "She's dead? What? Someone killed Amy?" He struggles against his bonds. "When did this happen? Amy was alive this morning!"

"I suggest you stop lying and come quietly. Anything you say will be used in your trial, that is, if you're even lucky to get one," I say dangerously quiet, an obvious warning in my voice.

"Commander!" says one of my soldiers. I turn to him, seeing the soldier holding a rough cloth containing a bloody knife. "It was hidden under a loose floorboard," he says.

"I didn't put that there! It isn't mine!" Liam shouts desperately.

I turn to him. "We will run tests to see if it matches Captain Ross's blood. And if it does…well, we both have a pretty good idea how this'll all end."

Liam lowers his head, hiding it in the shadows as soldiers escort him out of his apartment. He is shoved into the back of a military jeep and we drive straight towards Batalla Hall.

**1109 Hours.**

**Emerald Café, Sector** **Amethyst.**

**Two Weeks Later.**

**71 º Indoors.**

Guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty, _guilty_. The word echoes in my head until the meaning gets hollow. It's been a week since Liam's trial and I still feel unsure of everything.

"Something bothering you?" asks Pascao, his eyebrow raised. He looks at me as he takes a sip of his coffee, his gray eyes filled with concern.

"It doesn't feel right," I blurt out. "I don't think Liam's guilty."

"I guess people aren't what they seem. I trained him when he was a new cadet, and I thought he was a good kid."

"I feel like something's wrong. As if there's something missing. It just doesn't make sense."

"June, just look on the bright side. You found Amy's killer. You don't ever have to worry about it again." Pascao takes another sip form his mug.

"Still…"

"The story has to end at some point, June. This is the ending, and it's time to close the book and put it away. It's going to stay in your head for a long time, but sooner or later you'll forget about it," says Pascao.

"Maybe you're right…"

"I'm always right," Pascao jokes, a grin suddenly spreading over his once serious face. The skin around his gray eyes crinkles from years of smiling. "Anyways, the worst part's already over. The only thing that's left is the paperwork."

I feel my shoulders relax from my tense position. "Yeah, all that paperwork," I say lightheartedly. I reach for my cup of black tea, which is already lukewarm.

"I still need to choose another captain…" I say after taking a sip. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Pascao thinks for a moment before saying, "Perhaps Dorian Jenamos? He's shadowing me as an assistant but I feel like he's better off in the field. I'm willing to give up a good assistant to help an old friend."

"That name sounds familiar," I murmur to myself.

"Well, he graduated from Drake. Had a pretty high score on his Trial. Well, obviously not as high as yours though."

The name suddenly clicks in my memory. "Oh!" I exclaim. "He was the boy in my Republic History three-oh-two class. Hmm…I guess he'd make a good captain."

"Consider it," says Pascao. "He's pretty cute." He gives me a mischievous wink. I blush unintentionally, feeling embarrassed about his teasing.

My cheeks return to their normal color and I say, "I'll talk to him later."

** I feel like this chapter is rushed, but I want to have Day and June meet in the next chapter. Btw, do any of you guys remember Dorian? [He was only mentioned in the second chapter of Legend, but I wanted to include him for some reason :)]**


	4. Chapter 4: Day

**Day**

I look outside my window, watching the glistening ocean waves crash onto the rocky shores once, twice, three times. I slide open the window to feel the cold refreshing breeze.

They say Antarctica was once completely covered in ice. They say the only things that lived here were a handful of goddy scientists and strange birds that walked almost like humans.

They say a lot of things. They say I'm a hero, a legend. That I was the people's champion, the one who changed the future. They tell me how I almost died, and how it's a miracle I lived. But they refuse to tell me the terrible things I've done. They're always silent when I ask.

For ten years, I've been living in a haze, lost in confusion. But piece by piece, year by year, I've managed to put the puzzle pieces back together. All except one.

I know my name is Daniel Altan Wing. People used to call me Day. I did everything I could for my family when Eden got really sick. I know the Republic murdered my parents and John, and that they experimented on me and Eden. I know that we were all victims of the Republic. And I know I met a girl.

Not a random girl. She was special. Different.

I know she had long hair she kept in a high ponytail and gold swimming in her beautiful dark eyes.

She-

I cannot remember who she is. Who is the girl that haunts me?

"Daniel?" Eden interrupts my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I ask. My voice is low and rough when I speak. "What is it?"

"I should've told you sooner...I'm sorry..."

"Just tell me," I say. Usually my patience would run thin, but this is Eden. I can't get mad at my little brother.

"I applied for an engineering position a few months ago," he says breathlessly. "I just got a call from them. They say they want to interview me!"

A smile spreads across my face. "That's great, kid!" I exclaim.

Eden's face is still a bit grim. "There's one problem." He pauses. "I applied for a job in Los Angeles, at Batalla Hall."

"Oh." A shiver runs down my back. _That was the place where John died. _I brush away my thought. _We're trying to move forward, _I say to myself. "So when do you have to go?" I ask.

Eden bites his tongue. "Tomorrow afternoon. There's a 95% chance I'm getting the job." He meets my eyes. "I'm moving out."

"Then I'll come with you," I tell him firmly.

He protests. "But don't you want to stay here?"

I shake my head. "I've wanted to leave for a long time now. There's something out there I need to figure out."

* * *

We've managed to pack up our belongings while leaving the unnecessary stuff behind. I don't have much to bring- just my pendant, a bag of clothes, and the paperclip ring I wear on my finger. Eden on the other hand, stored all of his mechanical creations in boxes and carefully put his hand-built computers in suitcases.

"Do you really need all this?" I ask, watching the pilot load heavy boxes into the bottom of the plane.

"Yes!" Eden says, nodding furiously. "They're my prototypes. And with the technology they have at Batalla, I can build improved models. You see, recently the other engineers in LA developed a new power source that comes from absorbing the radiation of a commonly found element, therefore avoiding to use any carbon material but something-"

"Eden, you do realize I'm not smart enough to understand what you're saying, right?

"Well, you could if you'd chosen engineering rather than becoming a secret agent," Eden grumbles.

I ruffle his curly messy hair. "There's room for only one genius in the family, and it's you," I say.

Eden smiles, seeming quite pleased as he boards the private plane. I follow after him, shutting the door.

The engine rumbles, the jet speeding down the runway before taking off. The ground becomes smaller and smaller. I watch as the place that's been my home for ten years begins to shrink until it's nothing but a blob. "It's going to be a nine hour flight," says the pilot. "Make yourselves comfortable."

As if on cue, my phone vibrates. I take it out of my pocket, seeing that the caller's Tess. Wow, I haven't talked to her in a while. "Hello?" I answer the phone.

"Hey Day. Eden told me you guys were moving back to LA. I was just wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight," says Tess.

She doesn't sound like the kid I met on the streets. She's all grown up. Matured. I wonder how she looks like now, with ten years passing by. Contact between us had been growing less frequent, and I'm glad that we can reconnect again.

"That sounds great. See you tonight?"

"Yeah." Tess sounds relieved. "There's someone I want you to meet," she says.

"Really? Who?" I ask, curious.

Tess's voice becomes mischievous. "You'll see." She hangs up.

I can't help but to smile at her antics before putting my phone back in my pocket. I sigh, settling into the comfy chair and close my eyes. I drift into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

We're walking down the streets of LA, having dropped our bags off in the hotel we rented for the week. "Test me," pleads Eden.

I roll my eyes. "You'll do fine, kid," I say.

"Come on," he insists.

I sigh. "What's your name?" I ask in a monotone voice.

"Eden Bataar Wing," he answers promptly.

"Why do you want this job?"

He doesn't skip a beat. "I'm interested in engineering, and using my skills to make the world a better place."

"See? You'll do fine." I say. "As I said before, they have to pick you for the job. If they don't, then they're just a bunch of goddy idiots."

"Still," Eden whines.

I'm about to say something else when someone catches my eye. I see a young woman walking down the street, her brown hair tied in a high ponytail, every bit of her elegant. She's beautiful. Gorgeous. Nothing like the other women I've met in Antarctica. For some peculiar reason, she seems so familiar, yet she is a stranger. As she walks closer, I zone out of my conversation with Eden and focus on her. The woman walks in deliberate steps, turning heads when she walks past people.

Her dark hair turns lighter in the sun. Her gold flecked eyes shimmer and dazzle. It's her. It has to be. She's real. She's the girl that haunts me.

I don't know who she is, though. Perhaps a friend, hopefully a lover. I just know this: I cannot lose her again.

We walk past each other without a word. I try desperately to catch her attention but her enchanting eyes are fixed on the horizon. I turn my head and watch her walk away. We're drifting apart. And I can't let that happen. "Just a second," I say to Eden before running after the woman. She looks over her shoulder when she hears my hurried footsteps.

"Excuse me," I say breathlessly. "Have we met before?"

The woman looks at me, unable to conceal the pain in her dark eyes. "No," she whispers back after a pause. "Sorry."

I frown, disappointed. I swore it was _her._ I run a hand through my hair- a habit I have. The woman's eyes flicker to the ring on my hand. "Oh," I say. "I'm sorry to bother you, then. I just...You look really familiar. Are you sure we don't know each other from somewhere?"

She searches my face for something. I wish I could get rid of the pain that resonated in her eyes. Something flickers across her face. Realization. Hope. But she keeps her lips closed, the words she wants to say left unspoken.

She's lying. She _does _know me. "I_ have _known you," I murmur softly. "A long time ago. I don't know where, but I think I know why."

"Why then?" Her voice is gentle and delicate, as if she's trying not to cry.

I try to pull together an answer that doesn't sound crazy, but fail to. I take a step closer. Red rises on my cheeks as I try to explain. "I'm sorry. This is going to sound so strange. I...I've been searching a long time for something I think I lost."

"It's not strange at all," she says, swallowing back hidden emotions.

A smile breaks across my face. "I felt like I found something when I saw you back there. Are you sure...do you know me? Do I know you?" Conflict is written all across her face. She seems to be having an internal debate in her head, each side too strong to defeat one another. _Please, _I pray. _Let the side with the truth win. I need to know. I need to know._

After a long, eternal moment, she says, "I have to go meet up with some friends."

"Oh. Sorry." I apologize to her for a third time. "I do too, actually. An old friend down in Ruby."

She freezes, her eyes widening. "Is your friend's name Tess?" The woman asks hesitantly.

I smile. "You know her." The disappointment stirring in my chest fades.

"Yes," she murmurs. "I'm having dinner with her tonight." _She must be the friend Tess wanted me to meet!_

I gaze at her, my face serious and sincere. It's her. She's what I lost ten years ago. "I do remember," I whisper. Memories of her, no_\- us_, are coming back together. Still faint and filled with holes, but _there. _"It's you," the words leave my lips, my voice filled with wonder.

"Is it?" The woman whispers, her voice trembling. Her eyes are bright, shining with hope.

"I hope," I reply softly, "to get to know you again. If you are open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away." I reach out to shake her hand. The second I touch her, I feel a spark igniting, starting at our palms, running through my arm and straight to my heart. My heart thuds quickly in my chest, a feeling I haven't felt in a long, long time. The feeling of love.

"Hi," I say. "I'm Daniel."

"Hi," she replies. "I'm June." She smiles softly, happy tears filling in her eyes.

Just one look from her and I know. I know we were together. Me and June. June and I. We were together, once.

I forget the rest.


	5. Chapter 5: June

June

**1623 Hours.**

**Batalla Hall**

**A week since I met Day **

**63º Indoors**

The door to my office suddenly flies open, a man bursting in. "Sorry I'm late," he gasps out between heavy pants, pressing his hand against the wall to steady himself. He runs a hand through his unruly blond hair and straightens his uniform. I try to ignore the wrinkles and small imperfections on his clothes.

"It's alright," I say, gathering my papers and neatly placing it in the drawer attached to my desk. "Have a seat."

He hesitantly sits down, nervousness written all over his face. His Adams apple bob when he swallows. "I'm Dorian. Dorian Jenamos," he introduces, extending his hand out.

I shake his hand. "June Iparis," I say. "But we've met before in college."

He lets out a nervous laugh. "I didn't think you'd remember me. After all, it's been twelve years since you left Drake."

"How could I forget my partner in crime?" I ask with a wistful smile. "Besides, you were one of the only people that treated me like an equal instead of acting snobbish like the rest."

Dorian relaxes in his chair. "Remember the last prank we did? Years past and we were never caught," he says proudly. The memory is faint, but I still remember setting off the sprinkling system and fire alarms during evaluation day by hacking the smoke detectors. Ms. Whitaker was _pissed_ that day.

"Well, you were very skilled with technology," I recall.

"But you were always the true mastermind," Dorian counters teasingly.

I give a small smile at his praise. I clear my throat, "So anyways, we should probably start the job interview." Dorian rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Is there any specific reason you want to be captain?"

"I want to protect the citizens from the increasing danger in the Republic. Already, there have been four unsolved murders this month, including Captain Amy Ross's," he begins.

I frown and suddenly lean in closer. "What makes you think Captain Ross's murder is unsolved?" I ask quietly, watching his reaction. "Fingerprints were found on the murder weapon that belonged to ex-soldier Liam Stryder."

"Oh!" says Dorian. His cheeks are flushing red with embarrassment. "I wasn't aware that they found the killer. Sorry."

"It's okay," I tell him, my tense muscles loosening at his honest mistake.

"But back to my point, someone out there is responsible for the deaths of three people. I want to bring them to justice," he says firmly, his blue eyes serious. Dorian doesn't seem like the prankster I met at Drake. Something about him has changed but I can't put my finger on it. Then again, it's been twelve years. People can change.

"Well, I'd love to have you on board as a captain," I say, shaking his hand once more. "Congratulations."

A smile breaks on his handsome, chiseled face. "I got the job?" he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up.

I smile warmly back at him. "You'll be sworn in next week. I'm glad we can get some new leaders in this military."

"Thank you so much June- I mean Commander Iparis," he stutters.

I wave him off. "Call me June. You're an old friend, not a cadet."

"Thank you," Dorian repeats, giving me a respectful bow with his head. He gives me a quick salute and exits my office.

I reach back into my drawer to pull out the papers I was reading before Dorian came in. It's the written report of Amy's death. I can't get it out of my head. As I take the papers out, a small photo flutters to the floor. I pick it up, recognizing it as a photo of the freshmen class at Drake.

As the shortest student, I'm in the front, surrounded by towering sixteen year olds. How innocent I was when I was twelve, under Metias's careful protection. I miss those days, when everything was so simple and straightforward. I spot young Dorian in a sea of faces, his features not yet harden by the harsh world.

Another face catches my eye. A young girl with blond hair and bright green eyes. Amy. I hadn't realized we were in the same grade- I never had any classes with her back at Drake. Just one look of her sends a pang to my heart. Amy is no longer the vibrant girl filled with energy. Now she's just a cold lifeless body buried six feet underground, the memory of her slipping away from the earth.

Before any tears can fall, I shove the photo and the rest of the papers back into the drawer, locking it up. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I stand up from my seat. My remote makes a clicking noise when I press the button, shutting off the lights, as I leave my office.

Thoughts of Amy still linger in my mind, although I attempt to get rid of them. While thinking, I accidentally bump into someone. "Sorry," I say automatically, looking up. To my confusion, the person I ran into is Eden.

"Hey Eden," I greet. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," says Eden. "I was hired as head engineer."

"No, I meant what are you doing in this corridor? It's for military personal, not engineers."

"Am I not allowed to walk around the building?" Eden asks sharply, suddenly defensive.

Pink colors my cheeks. "Sorry, I was just curious. I shouldn't have asked."

"You shouldn't have," says Eden coldly, adjusting his thick glasses. He pushes past me, walking towards the end of the hall. _Why is Eden so rude all of a sudden? _I ask myself. _He must be having a bad day. Yeah, that's it. Everyone has their ups and downs._

When I get to my apartment building, Day's there, waiting for me. "Hey," he says kindly, a smile lighting his face.

All my troubles fade away at the sight of him. "Hey," I say warmly. "How are you?"

"It's all good," he replies casually. "Listen, I was wonder if you wanted to grab a bite and go for a walk. I mean- it's okay if you can't, I know that your schedule must be really busy and all…" he rambles on.

"I'd love to," I answer. "Just let me change my clothes- I hate wearing uniforms."

* * *

We walk around the streets, buying food from vending carts as we talk at ease. "I remember stealing an entire ham from that butcher store once," Day says, pointing at the building across the street.

"A ham? Like the 10 pound ones?" I ask amusedly. I can hardly imagine a teenaged Day running out of that store wielding a large piece of ham like a club. "How'd you manage to take it?"

"Took it while the butcher was busy cutting up steak. He didn't notice until I was out the door," Day tells me with a laugh.

We begin to exchange stories neither of us have heard. Day tells me about his time on the streets and in return, I tell him about Metias and my infamous pranks at Drake.

We end up walking around the Nima sector, a once poor area now renovated into something incredibly better. There's a stone wall that separates the lake and land, unlike ten years ago where you could walk straight into the water.

Day suddenly falls silent from his story. His blue eyes study the scenery, a strange look on his face. "Daniel? Are you alright?"

Wordlessly, Day takes a step forward until our faces are only a few inches apart. The beat of my heart gets louder and faster. I wonder if he can hear it. He leans in. I hold my breath, unable to do anything but stay still. I'm frozen in place. Day strokes my cheek with his hand, his gaze intensifying.

His lips are softer than I remember. I shatter in his arms. I kiss fiercely back, the love I had for him rekindling into a roaring flame. His lips are insistent against mine, full of passion. Suddenly, he pulls away, his face bright red. "Sorry," he murmurs. I think I'm blushing just as fiercely. "I-I just remembered something else. His eyes fix on mine. "Our first kiss- it was here. There was an old building with a balcony over there," he says, gesturing towards it. "It's gone now. But I remember we were sharing bottle of some salty wine and we ended up kissing."

There's indescribable joy stirring in heart. I stand on my toes to kiss him again. He responds eagerly. As we kiss, everything begins to fall back together. He is mine. I am his. It's been like this. Always.

* * *

Day walks me home after the sun sets. I fumble for my keys, distracted by Day kissing my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Um, I'm not sure if work will let me out early," I say truthfully.

"Then I can stop by your apartment at eleven. Sound good to you?"

I nod before kissing him one last time. "See you tomorrow," I repeat firmly once we pull away. Day smiles, shyly tucking his hands in his baggy pockets.

"Good night," he says.

"Bye."

Day walks down the street as I open the door to the lobby. The elevator is strangely jammed, so I end up taking five flights of stairs to my apartment room.

There's a strange smell wafting in the air when I open my door. I gag at the coppery scent, clamping a hand over the lower half of my face. _What is that smell? _It gets stronger and potent as I walk down the small hallway and pass the kitchen. I turn the corner- and I scream when I see the sight.

There's a body bound to a wooden chair with ropes, the man's head falling limply to the side. Fresh blood still gushes down from the large slit in his throat. Even from here, I know he's dead.

My breathing pattern quickens, panic controlling my body. My natural instinct is to run away, but my feet force me to move closer to the dead body. Even in the dim light, I can recognize the face. This body belongs to Liam Stryder.

His empty pale green eyes stare blankly at the wall. There are several cuts and purpling bruises on his exposed skin, but one minor injury sticks out more than the rest. The number 92 is carved into his cheek just like the way the number 53 was on Amy's palm. What do these numbers mean? Is it a hidden code?

I rip my eyes away from Liam's lifeless body, only to find myself staring at the message written in blood. Forty-one streaks of crimson are painted on the wall, forming four words. _Miss me, Little Iparis?_ The words on the wall say.

I stumble back a little, my frightened eyes taking in the sentence. Even through my terror, details still manage to rush in. The blood on the wall is barely dry, just like the blood staining the front of Liam's shirt. There was no possible way that Liam could've slashed his own throat, which leads to one conclusion- the killer is currently roaming the streets. _Or maybe the killer never left my apartment, _the thought crosses my mind.

I make a soft clicking noise with my tongue, turning on my earpiece. "Commander?" questions the person at the other end. "Is there something you need?"

"Call a squad to come to my place. I might need backup," I whisper.

"Will do," the person suddenly pauses. "We also have urgent information, but your com was off when we called. Liam Stryder has escaped from his cell at Batalla Hall with some assistance. We have three squads searching for him."

"Call off the search," I order quietly. "I found Stryder."

"Really? How is he?"

"He's dead," I say softly. "Someone murdered him and left him in my apartment. And I think the killer might still be here."

"Commander, I suggest you leave the building immediately. The killer is dangerous and armed!" says the speaker anxiously.

"I have a gun," I say. "Just tell the squad to come as quickly as possible." Before the speaker can reply, I turn off my com once more. I pull out my gun, readying it in front of me as I cautiously search my apartment.

I hear a small creaking sound, followed by a louder noise of the window opening. I rush into my room, the only place other than my living room with windows. I catch a quick glimpse of a dark figure jumping out of my window. The moment goes past too quickly for me to take in any details. Rushing towards the killer's escape route, I look down only to see empty streets. There is no sign of the killer- they've disappeared completely into the darkness.

**As always, please review! Also, because finals are in a few days, I'm not entirely sure if I can update next week...**


	6. Chapter 6: Day

Day

There is a man looking at me, his eyes dark and flecked with gold, almost identical to June's. But unlike her soft kind eyes, his is filled with anger and hatred. "Who are you?" I yell at him. "What do you want from me?"

He takes one step closer, the badges on his uniform gleaming in the light. "Stay away from her. Stay away from my little sister."

"You're June's brother?" I ask incredulously as I begin to realize how similar their features are.

"And you're Day," he spits. His face is contorted with fury. "The man who murdered me."

"I…I didn't kill you!" I stammer. "I don't murder people!" But the gaps in my memory cause doubt to stir in my chest.

"Stay away from her," he repeats with the same amount of warning. "A killer like you doesn't deserve someone like June. You're still the street brat you were twelve years ago. You are _nothing_!" His voice rises to a scream.

June's brother continues to throw vulgar insults at me until the words are meaningless. He opens his mouth to say something else, but all that comes out is a familiar, high pitched whistle. My dream begins to ripple and shatters to pieces.

I wake up with sweat beading my brow, gasping for breath. The sound of the wailing siren is still ringing in my ears until I realize it's coming from outside. I throw the blanket off my body as I rise from my bed to look out the window.

There are dozens of cars, mostly police cars, speeding down the street and abruptly parking down the street, right in front of the apartment building June lives in. I grab my coat, pulling it on as I run out the door, down the stairs, and outside into the freezing night.

The cold air bites my exposed skin as I sprint down the street. A surge of panic urges me to run faster when I see the black van with the word "Coroner" written on both sides in bold white letters. _June,_ I immediately think, fear rushing through my veins.

Two coroners are wheeling a stretcher with a body bag strapped on top out of the building. "June!" I yell, trying to get past the two soldiers that block my path. "June!" _She can't be dead, she can't be dead_, I keep screaming in my head as I helplessly watch them put the body into the back of the coroner van.

"Day?" I hear her voice behind me and relief floods through my body. I turn around and throw my arms around her, crushing her in a tight hug. She seems confused and startled at first. "Thank god you're safe," I breathe out, burying my face in her loose hair. I blink away the tears swimming in my eyes.

"I thought something happened to you," I whisper when we finally pull away.

"I'm okay," she says in a small voice. I notice she's shivering in the cool night air. I take off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders. June utters a quiet thank you but her eyes are still on the coroner van, distracted and distressed.

"Do you know what happened?" I ask, following her gaze.

"Someone was murdered in their apartment," she says after a hesitant pause. "They haven't caught the killer."

The police cars and the van slowly begin to pull away, leaving behind one patrol car. The remaining officers use yellow caution tapes to block the entrance of the building. "Can I stay at your place for the night?" June asks suddenly, turning to me. In the dim street lights, I can see the small hint of fear in her eyes.

"Of course," I reply. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt if the killer came back."

"Thanks," she says, tugging my jacket tighter over her small frame. I take one last look at the building before I lead June to my apartment room.

When we arrive, June takes a seat on the couch, taking one of the cushions to use as a pillow. "Take the bed," I say.

She frowns saying, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm going to stay up until Eden comes home anyways. Besides, if I get sleepy, I'm sure Eden won't mind if I borrow his bed for a few hours," I say with a smile.

"Oh. Okay," she says before moving to my bed. It doesn't take her long to fall asleep. Her sleepy eyelids close and her breathing pattern becomes slower and steady. Her dark hair covers her face until I reach over to tuck the strands of hair back behind her ear.

It's nice to watch June sleep. All the distress, fear, pain on her face washes away and is replaced by a look of serenity. Unlike me, she probably doesn't suffer from nightmares. June mumbles something in her sleep. Then she murmurs my name, followed by another string of unintelligible words. I smile a little at her before shifting my attention to the clock.

It's around 2 a.m. in the morning. Eden should've been home by now; his shift ended five hours ago. "_They haven't caught the killer._" June's words echo through my head, anxiety beginning to form. _What if…what if- no I can't think like that. Eden's somewhere safe, probably just working overtime or something….Even though he never stays after his shifts. _I desperately try creating legitimate reasons for his absence, but fail to.

The lock on the door suddenly makes a clicking noise despite the person's efforts to silently open it. I jump at the sound of it, before getting up from my seat.

Carefully, the door opens, one foot appearing after the other. "Where were you?" I ask, coming into view.

Eden turns pale at the doorway, guilt plastered all over his face. "Just work," he says, his voice trembling.

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah? Is that so, kid? 'Cause what kinda goddy engineering job makes you stay until 2 a.m. in the morning?" I take a step closer to his frozen body ridged with fright, my voice becoming dangerously quiet. "I'm giving you a chance to tell the truth. Where were you tonight?"

A rare emotion flashes across his murky blue eyes that are still stained with black dots, a gift from the Republic's experiments. "Why do you care so much?" He asks spitefully. Rage clouds his face, contouring his skin with tight lines of anger.

I tightly grip the sleeve of his baggy black sweatshirt and drag him outside to the hallway, preventing us from waking June up. "I'm your brother," I say. "It's my responsibility to make sure you're safe."

"You're not my mother! Mom's dead because you failed to protect her," he snarls. The blow of Eden's words hit me in the gut. I take a step back, feeling the pain sink in. "I'm an adult, I make my own choices. And you can't stop me. So stop acting like you're my caretaker because you're not." Eden roughly pushes past me and storms into the apartment, leaving me stunned.

I am absolutely speechless. This _can't_ be Eden. The Eden I know is a kind, gentle young man who aspires to be a great engineer, to help people with his creations. He isn't a spiteful person who's filled with anger and dark thoughts. But maybe I was wrong this entire time. Maybe I was too busy to see him gradually change from that innocent ten year old boy into his twenty-two year old self.

After a few minutes of swimming in confusion, I go back into the apartment. I check on June first, passing by Eden's closed bedroom door. She's still sleeping peacefully, showing no sign that she heard Eden enter.

My eyes soften at the sight of her. As if out of habit, I walk over to June and plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her eyelids flutter slightly.

I take a seat back on the couch, my eyes stinging from fatigue. However, my mind refuses to shut down, thoughts racing around my head, flying and buzzing around like the annoying insects on a hot summer day.

Besides my problem with Eden, I still have June and my fragmented memories to piece together. I can't remember if I truly killed her brother, or if June knows I did. I'm beginning to question what kind of person I was in the past to have done such a terrible thing. I don't know. In my dream, June's brother warned me to stay away from her. So if I really murdered this man, wouldn't it be right and humane to follow his last wish?

I would, I really would, if the situation wasn't fixed like this. But I can't leave June. I can't leave her because I'm in love with her. A spark goes off in my heart when I finally admit it. "I'm in love with her," I whisper softly in the dim light, too quiet to wake June, but loud enough for me to feel the words leave my lips and embrace it.

I take another look at her sleeping form, my heart thudding in my chest. _I'm sorry, _I tell June's brother in my head. _But_ _I can't stay away from June. I need to protect her, make sure nothing ever harms her. _I remember the way I felt when I saw those police cars parking in front of June's apartment, when I saw a dead body being rolled away and fearing it was her.

They say love makes you do strange, irrational things. But I am not irrational. I know for sure, whether she loves me back or not, that I want to protect her with my life, and shield her from everything wrong in our world. I am in love with June Iparis, and I think I always have been.

**R&amp;R!**


	7. Chapter 7: June

**June**

Eyes.

It's always the eyes that haunt me the most. After time passes, the faces become blurred and murky but the memory of their eyes are left untouched.

It's not like I didn't have my fair share of seeing dead people. I was only fourteen when I shadowed Metias on his assignment to track down and kill a runaway prisoner of war. We cornered him in an alley, where the prisoner pleaded for his life. I still remember the fear in his dark almond eyes, searching for an escape route in the narrow alleyway before he realized he was trapped.

I never gave the dead prisoner a second thought until I remembered his haunting last words years later in a dream. "Please," he had begged. "Don't kill me. I just want to go home." His glance darted from me to Metias before he took one hesitant step forward. "That's your sister, right? I have a younger sister just like you. Her name's Frankie and she's only thirteen. I have to get back to her, I promised her I wouldn't leave her. Please, have mercy. Let me go and I swear I'll never set foot in the Republic again." Metias shot him anyways, because that was what the brother I knew would do- he was obedient, the perfect soldier. He was taught to ignore every word the enemy said and just focus on the task.

And after my beloved brother was murdered, I watched people fight and die for a cause they so strongly believed in. I watched Thomas order soldiers to massacre a crowd that chanted for freedom until every protester fell to the floor, bleeding to death. And I couldn't help them. I had turned my back towards the bloody hands that reached out, pleading for help.

That dying crowd is an unforgettable memory. And so is Jameson's death. She haunts me the most, always entering my worst nightmares. Her eyes were not filled with rage, fear, or sadness as she fell to her death. Jameson had a thin viper-like grin etched on her pale face, her cruel eyes filled with twisted amusement; one last sign of triumph. She acted as she won something when she lost her life.

Liam Stryder was different. Unlike Jameson, he died afraid. He died because I failed to do my job once again. That is my flaw- like Metias, I ignore what the supposed guilty say. And until someone gets hurt or something goes wrong, I don't realize that I got the wrong person. It happened once with Day, and now history repeated itself with Liam.

_"You don't deserve to be commander," _a voice hisses in my head.

_ "You're nothing but a coward," _says another.

Then Jameson's face appears. She smiles cruelly and taunts, _"Poor Little Iparis. So weak, so pathetic. Pity. I used to think you were like me, but it's a shame I was wrong. Perhaps one day you'll understand. Love makes you weak and soft." _She laughs harshly. _"It will end you."_

I gasp and my eyes fly open. I abruptly sit up from my bed, panting for breath. "Just a dream. It's just a dream," I whisper to myself. My eyes fix on my surroundings in this unfamiliar room. After a moment of sheer confusion, I remember that I went to Day's apartment when mine was labeled a crime scene.

The room is still dark, but sunlight is spilling through the small crack where the two curtains meet. I slip out of bed silently, trying to not wake up Day, who's snoring away on the couch. I pull on my boots and then scribble down a message for him when he wakes up.

_Have to go, I'm late for my shift. See you soon. ~June_

Before I leave, I feel a sudden urge to kiss Day. I lean over and give him a light kiss on his forehead. He stirs, but doesn't wake. "See you later," I whisper before I sneak out the door. I feel guilty that I didn't tell Day what really happened yesterday but I just don't want him to know. He shouldn't be dragged into this.

I stop by my apartment to grab a fresh uniform. I avert my eyes from the living room, although the room has been scrubbed clean of blood. It looks as if Liam was never murdered here. I shudder as I remember Liam's blank pale eyes before I force the image to disappear. I change clothes and leave my apartment as quick as possible- I can't stand another moment in these rooms.

As I walk down the streets, I hear a voice call out, "Commander!" I look over my shoulder and see a teenage girl jogging towards me, her blond ponytail swinging from side to side. I squint through the sunlight, my eyes widening when I realize who it is. I swallow hard.

"Hey Selene," I say, biting my lip. She somehow has grown an inch taller within the past few weeks, reaching the same height as her deceased sister. "Did you want something?"

"I heard about Liam," she says after a pause. I curse silently in my head. _How did she find out? I specifically told the soldiers to keep the story out of the news for her sake. No one knows about his escape and death except for the few soldiers that were involved. _"So is it true? Is he really dead? Was he innocent?"

I squeeze my eyes shut before I reopen them. "Yes. And Liam wasn't the one who killed Amy." Just admitting that sends a guilty pang to my heart. I helped condemn Liam, an innocent man.

"I knew he didn't do it," Selene confesses. "I was just so _angry_ at him for everything he did. I wanted someone to blame."

"What did he do?"

Selene bites the inside of her cheek, obviously uncomfortable. "He and Amy were together, but superior and subordinate relationships are against the rules. I was the only one that knew about them, and Liam had threatened to hurt me if I told. So I kept quiet, and Amy seemed so happy with him." She pauses. "But then she began coming home with bruises and I was ready to tell someone on the day….on the day she died." Tears fill her eyes.

"If Liam was abusing Amy, how were you so sure he didn't kill her?" I ask.

"Because I know Liam would never kill Amy. He may have hurted her, but to some extent, he still loved her in his own twisted way." Rage gnaws at me. If I had known, I would've punished Liam right away because Amy was my friend. And for just a second, through my anger, I truly believe Liam deserved his death.

I hide away my fury from Selene and force my voice to be emotionless. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?" I ask.

Selene shakes her head. "I wanted to offer you my help," she says.

"Your help? For what?"

"Finding the killer, obviously. For personal reasons."

_Promise me you'll take care of her_, Amy's last words echo in my head. "No. I don't need your help," I say. "You're too young."

Selene flushes red. "I'm sixteen. You were only fifteen when you were sent to catch Day," she counters.

"Day wasn't a dangerous killer," I point out.

She grits her teeth in frustration. "You already know I'm more than capable to help you. So why won't you let me?!"

"I promised your sister I would look after you. And by looking after you, I mean making sure you don't go on some suicide mission hunting for an experienced murderer. I am not letting you get killed because of your rash decisions."

"Fine," she says stubbornly. "If you won't let me help you, then I guess I'll just look for the murderer by myself." A smug smile crosses her face; she knows she's won the argument.

I sigh. "Fine. You can help as long as you promise you won't get hurt."

"Deal," Selene says, a triumphant smile on her face. "Oh and one last thing. Can you convince my school to graduate me early? You know, like how your commander did when you were fifteen? I have the highest marks and everything."

"Ha. Nice try but no. You're staying in school." She pouts at that. "You better go before class starts; you don't want to be late for school. Just meet me after school in my office."

"Okay." She pauses. "Thanks," Selene adds hastily before turning back and running towards the Drake campus.

"What was that all about?" says Pascao.

I jump and whip my head towards his direction. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"You usually hear me when I'm coming. You must've been really absorbed in that conversation to not have," he observes. "By the way, why were you talking to Selene Ross?"

"Why do you want to know?" I shoot back.

"Okay okay," he raises his hands in surrender. "God it was just a question, don't murder me princess!"

I roll my eyes and shove him lightly. "Don't call me princess."

"You got it, princess."

I crack a smile. Pascao is always there to lighten up my mood, no matter what. "Can I ask you a question?" I ask, my seriousness coming back.

"Sure, shoot."

"If a teenage girl wanted to help with a murder investigation, would you let her?"

"Would depend on the situation, but Selene is like a mini you. She's smart and practically skipped all of high school and went straight to college. Just like you," he says with a smile. "And it'd be nice to see things in a different perspective, right?"

"I guess," I sigh. "I just don't want her getting hurt."

Pascao puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, she won't. I'll babysit her 24/7 if you really need me to."

"Selene wouldn't like that," I say.

"Trust me, she would. Everyone loves Pascao!"

"You're getting too full of yourself," I tell him jokingly.

He puts a hand on his chest, feigning shock and hurt. "Am not! How dare you suggest I'm vain?" He breaks into a grin. "Just watch, princess."

Pascao yells, "Everyone loves Pascao!" as we pass by the cadets in Batalla Hall. This earns him a few snickers and someone yells back, "I love you honey buns!"

I roll my eyes. "Guess you're right," I say with a laugh.

"Oh princess, haven't you learned already? I'm _always _right," he declares good-humoredly. The skin around his playful gray eyes crinkle.

"I think you better go control your cadets before they lose all respect for you," I joke.

"Nah, they already have," he says. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Day's back from Antarctica, right? Tell him I said hi."

"Sure," I say as Pascao walks away to train the cadets. I turn and walk towards my office, ready to take another shot at the case.


	8. Chapter 8: Day

**Sorry for not updating. I was in a bit of a writer's block.**

Day

I wake up with his name on my lips.

Metias. Metias. Metias.

Metias Iparis.

I've finally remembered his name after enduring another haunting dream. Now that I've put a name on his face, his name won't leave my head. Perhaps it's guilt that glues me to the memories of him, or perhaps it's the disbelief. I can't be too sure yet.

Every time I close my eyes, I see his face emerge from the darkness, reminding me of what I've done in the past. But the worst part of all is that something doesn't feel right. I feel denial, as if a small voice in my head is urging me to believe that I never killed a man. It torments me every waking moment, debating whether my dreams speak the truth or that it was all an illusion.

After checking to see if Eden's gone, I log onto his computer. He'd probably kill me for using it without asking.

_Metias Iparis_, I type into the search box. An image of a familiar face pops up on the screen, alongside with his basic information. His dark gold flecked eyes are cold and calculating. His face is stern, devoid of a smile.

I suddenly find it hard to breathe. I freeze, gripping the sides of the wooden table as new memories begin to unravel in my mind. I already remembered my days on the streets with Tess but this buried memory tells me that we were traveling with someone else.

A girl.

A beautiful girl that I fell in love with.

June.

Almost immediately more questions being to emerge. _Why was she there? How could I have not remembered her? Does she know I killed her brother? Why did we lose touch for ten years? _I curse under my breath. All these questions are giving me a goddy headache.

I log off the computer, trying to decide what to do next. I can't talk to June about this; I'm afraid to lose her. There aren't many people I can really talk to but maybe….maybe Tess will help me.

* * *

"I can't help you," says Tess. I slam down my half-empty cup of tea, growling with frustration.

"You have to," I plead, my voice becoming desperate. "We've known each other for so long. We've _helped_ each other so many times."

Tess sighs. "Yes, I know but this is for your own good. The doctor who operated on you recommended that it's better for you to not know. That way you won't remember the pain."

"You're a doctor. Don't you think confusion is worse than pain? At least you know why you're feeling pain."

Tess bites her bottom lip- she always bites it when she's thinking. Her doe eyes are searching for an answer. "I can't help you," she repeats after a moment of silence. "I made a promise."

"First Eden, and now you? Do you know how hard it is for me to live? I haven't had a good night's sleep in so long. Please Tess. You have to help me. I think I'm going out of my mind," I say. "Every time I close my eyes, I see myself killing June's brother. And I don't if I really did."

"You didn't," says Tess softly. "Your knife hit him in the shoulder. But he still died that night. Someone else murdered Metias, and it wasn't you."

It feels as if someone's pulled me up from the water. I'm swimming on the surface with everyone else, gasping as the air rushes back into my lungs. "So…so I didn't kill Metias…?" I ask again just to hear the confirmation in her voice.

"Yes," she whispers back solemnly. "Day, you're not a murderer."

**Since this chapter's pretty short, I'll try to update the next one in 2-3 days.**


	9. Chapter 9: June

June

**0845 Hours.**

**My Office**

**19 days since Liam was murdered.**

**66º Indoors**

"Was it really necessary to come here in the morning?" Selene complains, yawning.

"I don't see why you're complaining. Your classes usually start at six in the morning. It's almost nine now," says Dorian.

"But it's _Saturday_," she whines. "I wanted to sleep in today."

"Get used to it," I tell her, although my attention is trained on the computer. "If you want to become a soldier, you need to learn how to wake up early."

"I should've become a doctor like my dad wanted me to," Selene grumbles to herself. "Then I wouldn't have to be dragged here from my cozy bed."

"Oh poor little Selene still needs her nap time," Dorian teases. He ruffles her hair, making her even more annoyed.

"Go grab some coffee or something. Maybe that'll wake you up," I say as I type in the password to access online files.  
Selene's eyes suddenly brighten and gleam. "You mean from the lounge down the hall? The one that only captains and higher officers can use?"

"Yeah sure," I mutter. My eyes still glued to the computer.

"Wait what? June! You can't let her use the sacred coffee machine," Dorian protests.

"Ha!" says Selene triumphantly. "Jealous?"

"But...but...June why? I spent so many years as a cadet dreaming for the day I could use that lounge. And yet you're letting a cadet-in-training use it? What kind of justice is this?!" He complains childishly.

"Oh please, you weren't even a cadet for long. In your file it says you were a training assistant before June made you captain," Selene points out. "So technically, you also shouldn't have the right to use the lounge."

"Wait a second, how'd you get access to my file?" Dorian asks, narrowing his eyes at her. I try not to laugh but fail to. Dorian glances at me and pulls the pieces together. "June! That was confidential info!"

"Only to your weak argument. Let Selene use the lounge just this one time," I say.

Selene laughs and walks out the room while Dorian looks at me feigning betrayal. "Favoritism. I see how it is June."

"Why are you so attached to that coffee machine anyways?" I ask.

"I'm not attached to it. I'm just trying to defend the lounge because people have to _earn _the right to go in." Dorian crosses his arms.

"Really. That's your main concern? To be honest, I appointed you as captain because I thought you were serious. Not so that you could defend your sacred coffee machine."

"Hey, I said I wanted to defend the city. That includes saving my coffee machine from a cadet-in-training," he jokes.

I groan, rolling my eyes.

"Come on June. You know you to want to laugh," he says with a goofy infectious grin spreading across his face. I fight against the smile.

"I should've known you learned Pascao's tricks," I say.

"Shadowing him for two years taught me a lot. Like how to make a serious, beautiful girl smile." Dorian grins cheekily and winks. I give in, a smile flickering on my face.

"Yes!" he says victoriously. "You smiled!" He glances at Selene, who had just come back with a cup of steaming coffee. "And you owe me 10 Notes," he tells her, smirking.

Selene grumbles, digging into her pocket and tosses him a few crumpled Notes. "You guys were betting on whether I'd smile or not?" I ask.

"Yup. Selene thought it was impossible for you to smile so I proved her wrong," he says, counting the money.

"You two are ridiculous." I roll my eyes again. "But anyways, joke's over. Time to get serious. Two more people were murdered just this week by the same killer. We need to find the person before more people fall to the same fate."

"Sorry, but could you remind me who the victims were?" asks Dorian. "It slipped my mind."

"The first person was a seventy-four year old male, Alexander Qiu. He recently retired from his position as general. The other victim was fifty- seven year old Lydia Stryder, a nurse and also Liam Styder's mother. Small bombs went off in both of their apartments during the night." I let out a deep breath, tears stinging my eyes. "The numbers 15 and 16 were found spray painted on the remaining walls."

"This killer is one sick bastard," Selene whispers quietly. She sets down her mug, reaching out to grab a handful of papers and files.

"Shouldn't we be out trying to stop whoever's doing this instead of looking through old dusty files? There's no pattern, no consistency. So far the victims were a captain, an arrested second-in-command, a retired general, and a nurse. It makes no sense. We don't even know what clues to look for," says Dorian.

"I think I do," says Selene after a few heartbeats of silence. She shows me the photo of the bloody message that was written on my wall. "You said only one person called you 'Little Iparis'," she points out.

"Jameson," I whisper. "But she's dead."

"Perhaps not," she says. Selene takes out a thick folder that's labeled 'Classified' in bold red letters. "I've looked through her files, but I can't find an autopsy report. So either it's gone missing, or-"

"Or one was never written in the first place," Dorian finishes, his eyes widening. "Do you think she's actually alive?"

I shake my head. "She can't be. I _saw_ soldiers shoot her. I saw her fall down from over ten stories." _I saw her amused, triumphant eyes bore into mine, victory painted on her face as she fell to her death. _I curl my hands into fists so that neither of them can see my hands shaking. "She has to be dead."

"But that's not all," says Selene grimly. "I can't figure out what these numbers mean, but I think we might be able to predict the next victim."

"How?"

"Everyone that was murdered by this killer is all connected to the same event. They were all there at the last battle between the Colonies and the Republic. The same place Jameson was supposedly killed," she says.

My eyes widen with realization and my breath catches in my throat. The memory flashes through my mind:

_"Shoot her!" I scream. "Shoot her!" _

_ "I knew you couldn't do it yourself," Jameson says with a twisted smirk. Two soldiers turn their aim towards her, opening fire. Jameson loses her grip, but she's still smiling as she falls down, down, down. _

"The two soldiers who shot her…," I whisper to myself.

"One of them was Amy. The other was Alexander Qiu, who she was shadowing at the time," says Selene quietly.

Another memory of mine is unearthed: _Day's running to a nurse holding Eden. The nurse is blinded with fear, frantically running in the wrong direction. _"And there was also a nurse carrying Eden Wing. I think that was Lydia Stryder," I say.

"It is," replies Selene. "I checked in the files."

"So basically, everyone who was there at that battle is fair game," Dorian concludes.

"Not quite. I think anyone who went against Jameson or ruined her plan is in danger," says Selene grimly. "Like you June."

Or Day, Tess, Pascao, Eden. They're all in danger. I can't lose them. They're like my family; I can't bear to lose another loved one. And Day, I don't want to lose him again because this time, he's not going to be gone for only ten years. If the killer gets their hands on him, the boy who walks in the light will be gone forever.

"I have to protect my friends," I say, my voice strangling the words.

"June, you're in more danger then any of them. If this is Jameson or someone who's avenging her death, they're going to come after you next," says Selene. "We need a squad of soldiers to protect you at all times."

"No," I murmur. "If I'm protected at all times, then the killer won't target me first. They'll target my friends and other unprotected civilians. If we are to catch this person before they murder anyone else, then we have to lure them into a trap. And I can be the bait."

"June, we're not going to let you risk your life like that," Dorian says firmly.

I narrow my eyes. "I'm the commander, not you. I make the final call. And I say that the best way to catch this sick freak is to use me as the bait."

"You may be the commander, but you don't finalize the decisions. Not if the Elector knows about it. Everyone knows that his feelings for you are still strong, and if he knew that you were going to do something completely foolish and suicidal, Anden would stop you instantly," says Dorian.

"Don't you _dare_ tell him," I hiss. "He doesn't need to know."

"You can't keep secrets from the Elector, June. You know that. He has a right to know that there is a psychopath running around in the streets, killing people."

"Then I'll tell him after this is over. This will be a classified mission, and you two must swear not to spill any details of it. The last thing we need is for civilians to panic," I order firmly. "I swear on my life to never say a word," says Selene solemnly. I nod at her with approval.

I swivel my focus towards Dorian. His jaw is clenched and his face is filled with reluctance. "So Dorian, are you going to follow orders and keep this quiet?"

"Fine," he says. "As long as it's for the people, I'll do what you say."

"Good," I say, giving both of them a smile. "Let's get to work then. We have a killer to catch."

**Please review and tell me what you think of the story! It'd be awesome if you guys could leave some c****onstructive criticism on improving the story/ my writing.**


	10. Chapter 10: Day

Day

"Hey! Day, wait up!" yells a voice from down the street. I look over my shoulder, seeing a man jogging behind to catch up to me. The first thing I notice about him is his startling pale grey eyes.

He runs a hand through his short curly hair, a grin seeming to be etched permanently on his face. _I know him. I'm sure I do. _I shut my eyes for a second, snapping my fingers, struggling to remember a name. It's on the tip of my tongue.

"You're…you're Pascao, right?" I ask, comparing a mental image of a boy in his late teens to the man that stands in front of me. He's taller and more bulkier now that he's an adult.

"Yeah." Pascao smiles happily. "You remember me."

"You're a hard person to forget." I say, memories flooding back into my mind. All the memories I forgot are all blocked by a cement dam in my mind, holes slowly puncturing it and leaking out hidden recollections. I'm one step closer to shattering it now that I've re-met Pascao.

"So where are you heading to now?" asks Pascao.

"Batalla Hall," I reply. "I just want to see June. I'm worried for her; I haven't seen her for a week."

"June's been busy with a bunch of cases. But I'm sure she still has some time for her man." Pascao winks teasingly.

"I'm just worried that she's been avoiding me lately. I feel like I've done something to upset her or something," I admit, ruefully rubbing the back of my neck.

"Probably not. June's a hard girl to piss off. I've been annoying her for years but she still hasn't yelled at me for accidentally breaking so many things in her office. Like I said, she's busy handling stuff."

"I guess so." What was I so worried about? June's the commander of California; of course she wouldn't have free time. "Do you think she still has some time to let me stop by?"

"Just drop in. She'll be more then delighted to see you," says Pascao, shrugging. "She really needs to get her head out of those cases."

Pascao accompanies me to Batalla Hall, where he wanders off to visit his training cadets. I take a deep breath, smoothing my crumpled shirt. I knock on the door.

"Come in," says June's muffled voice.

I open the door, taking in the sight of her office. The office is spacious and elegant, filled with what seems like antique furniture. Her desk is in the back of the room, guarded by several file cabinets. June sits at her desk, her nose buried in piles of paper.

"Hey," I say, snapping her out of intense studying. She looks up, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Hey," she replies, her eyes brightening.

I casually lean against her desk. "Haven't heard from you for a while. I missed you," I say.

"I missed you too. It's just that I have to finish looking through all these files by the end of the week. And I haven't even begun to read through recommendation letters for potential captains," she says, gesturing to the stacks of papers sitting at the corner of her desk.

"Anyway I can help?" I offer.

"Not really," she says apologetically. "I'd be breaking so many rules by letting you read confidential files." She pauses. "But I could use a break from all this work. Maybe spend more time with you?"

"That'd be great. We could go for a walk or grab a bite and just relax."

June smiles. "I'd like that."

My eyes flicker to her desk, catching a glimpse of a photograph. It's a picture of me framed simply in black. I pick it up. It's a photo of me with a small smirk on my face.

"You have a picture of me?" I ask, flattered.

June takes it out of my hand, setting it back in its original spot. "We were apart for a decade. Whenever I miss you, I just look at it. It reminds me of the memories we shared," she says quietly.

"Then you don't need it anymore," I say firmly, turning the picture facedown. "I'm going to be right at your side; I am never leaving you again," I promise her. June's dark eyes search mine, seeing the honesty. June's eyes are usually difficult to read but now, I find love and hope shining in her eyes.

I hold her face in my hands, drawing her towards me. When our lips touch, I could feel her body melting into mine, the inexplicable pull of love that had bound us together in the beginning, bringing us together once again. June responds to my kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck. I pull her closer, running a hand through her soft loose hair.

Someone clears their throat loudly, banging something heavy against the door. We jump apart in surprise.

A girl about sixteen or seventeen stands in the doorway, holding a cardboard box filled with even more files. There's a goofy grin on her face.

"Great. Just in time," June mutters sarcastically under her breath. The girl continues to grin, lacking any shame for interrupting.

"So June," she says smiling innocently, "aren't you going to introduce us?"

Seeing no way out, June speaks up. "Daniel, this is Selene. She's shadowing me for a few weeks," she introduces formally. "Selene, this is Daniel."

"You mean Daniel, your famous boyfriend," Selene corrects teasingly.

"Selene," says June, heavy warning in her voice. "How about you get another box of files?"

"You're just trying to get rid of me," says Selene.

"_Selene_," June repeats, clearly irritated.

"Okay, okay," she grumbles.

Once she leaves, June turns to me. "Sorry about that," she apologizes, her cheeks still tinted pink with embarrassment.

"You guys act like sisters," I say, smiling. "It's pretty funny to see, actually."

"Never thought of it like that. I guess Selene could be my little sister. She can be a pretty big handful."

"I can see that," I say, laughing. "I should really go before she comes back." Despite this, I linger, still holding her hand. "Are you free next week?"

June smiles softly. "Yeah. I have the day off on Friday."

"Then will you be willing to spend a day with me? I heard there's a good movie playing in the cinemas," I say.

"I'd love to go," says June, happiness plainly dancing in her eyes.

"Then it's a date," I say, leaning in to kiss her one more time. When we pull away, she gives me another heartwarming smile. I feel sad it's already time to leave.

"Bye," I say as I exit her office.

I'm walking down the hallway when I bump into Selene. "Sooo, you're the famous Day," she says, her arms crossed. "Wow, you're even more handsome up close. By the way, I am _such _a huge fan of yours. Can you sign my posters later on?"

"You have posters of me?" I ask incredously.

"Uh, who doesn't? One, you're like a national hero and two, you're probably the hottest guy in the Republic. Even hotter than the Elector himself."

"Um, are you trying to flirt with me?" I ask, feeling uncomfortable.

"Is it working?" she asks hopefully.

"You're a bit too young for me, don't you think?" I laugh nervously. "And besides I'm already with June."

"Drat. June's a hard girl to beat," she says glumly. "But anyways, can you autograph my posters when we see each other again? They're collectables."

"Sure, I guess," I agree.

"Okay." Selene pauses. A mischievous smile spreads across her face. "So, how's your relationship with her?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. I blink at her, taken aback at the sudden question.

"I just have a few questions for you," she says, her eyes eager for answers. "Can you make her laugh, or is that physically impossible for her? I saw her smile once but I think she was faking it… On a scale from one to ten, how romantic are you two? I want juicy details. Where do you go for dates? When did you guys meet? Is it true that you fell in love at first sight? Are you guys planning to get married soon? Can I come to your wedding? If you guys had kids, what would you name them? And will you guys let me come over and babysit them?" Question after question spills out of her mouth at lightning speed. Selene's like a hyper squirrel that was fed a pound of sugar, judging by her energy.

"Whoa, slow down. I missed like half of your questions," I say, laughing. "But to answer some of them, yes June can laugh; she just chooses not to. And I met her when we were fifteen, and fell in love with her. I'm still in love with her to this day, and when everything is settled yes, I do want to propose to her," I admit.

Selene squeals in delight at these new answers. "But don't tell June I said this," I say. "Promise me. I don't want to scare her away." We've been apart for so long; she might think it's weird that I want to marry her just after a few months of reconnection.

"I won't tell a soul," Selene promises.

I relax. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get back work," she says. "But the next time we run into each other, you _have_ to autograph my posters of you. My friends will never believe me if I tell them I met you without any proof."

"Then I'll make sure to carry a pen at all times just for that occasion," I say. I open the door, feeling the wind blow into my blond hair. "Well, goodbye Selene. It was nice meeting you."

"Bye!" she yells after me, waving furiously.

I smile at her, before I turn and walk across the street. I shove my hands in my pockets, still smiling that June said yes to the date.

I open the door to my apartment, finding the lights already turned on. "Hey Daniel," greets Eden.

I almost choke. "What happened to your _hair_?" I ask, completely shocked.

Eden rubs his short buzz cut, shrugging. "I wanted to change it." His long messy curls are all gone, eliminating the childish aspect of him I had always seen. With his hair out of the way, I can see that his face is leaned out and matured, his baby face no longer there. "Besides, it's pretty hot out," he says.

There's apology clearly written on his face. "I just want to say I'm sorry for ignoring you for the past few weeks. I didn't mean any of what I said. About you not being able to protect Mom, about all the terrible things I said to you-"

I pull him into a firm brotherly hug. "I know you didn't mean it. You were just angry and you needed to let it out."

"I miss them," Eden whispers. "I miss them so much." I can feel his tears wetting my shoulder.

"I know," I whisper back hoarsely. "I miss them too. But they're still with us Eden. I know they're watching over you and me."

Eden nods wordlessly, wiping away his tears. "I wish everything was back to the way it was. I wish none of this ever happened."

"But it did," I say quietly. "It happened and now we have to keep moving on."

"Easy for you to say," he says bitterly. "You're strong. But I am weak, so weak and helpless. I wish I could change that."

"You're wrong Eden," I tell him. "You _are _strong. And finding a way to deal with the pain and grief will make you even stronger."

Eden nods again, clinging to me. He's still my little brother. I wanted to protect him from the cruel world, but ended up exposing it to him. But I still have time to make it up to him, don't I? I want to be better for him. I want to be a better person, a better brother. Perhaps then I'll truly be able to let go of this haunted past.


	11. Chapter 11: June

June

**0431 Hours.**

**The Crescent Hotel, Sector Ruby **

**Thursday, the day before my date with Daniel.**

**66º Indoors**

"Incoming call for June Iparis," says the female mechanical voice of the com machine. I stifle a groan and roll over on my side, the blankets rustling noisily. I'm ready to go back to sleep but the com machine repeats itself, this time even louder. "Incoming call for June Iparis." God, I hate that voice.

For a second, I'm tempted to sleep through the noise, but then I remember being alert at all times is part of a commander's duty. I throw the blanket off my body, sliding out of the bed and rubbing my sleepy eyes. The hardwood floors are freezing cold as I walk to the com machine with bare feet. I insert the com in my ear before whispering, "Hello?"

Dorian's voice responds back. "J-June," he stammers frantically.

I note the fear in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"The killer…he's after me," Dorian whispers.

"Stall him as long as you can. I'm sending backup. Do you copy?" I say. Dorian doesn't answer. At the end of the other line, all I can hear are sounds of struggle. I pale; I meant for Dorian to just lure the killer out, not attack him headfirst.

Before I can order him to run, I hear Dorian howl in pain, and he suddenly falls silent. "Dorian!" I scream into the com. He still doesn't answer.

I memorize the location the com machine flashes. Quickly, I change into my uniform and grab my gun before I run out of my hotel room. As I drive my military jeep towards Dorian's location, I order two squads of soldiers to surround the sector.

On my way to the Tanagashi Sector, I must've broken multiple traffic laws due to my speeding. Metias would've probably scolded me for such reckless driving if he were still here. Frustrated tears cloud my vision. Why is my life so ruined? I'm losing everyone I love and trust to this murderer.

I stop the car at Bracken St. I sprint down the street, running into an alley. I spot Dorian's limp body at the end of the alleyway, propped upright on the brick wall. "Dorian!" I scream, running to him. I skid to a stop, kneeling in front of him.

"No no no," I whisper frantically, my eyes widening at the knife buried deep into his chest. His eyes are closed, his head lolling to the side. My hand is hovering over his nose, seeing if he's breathing. I feel a small puff of air on my skin and let out a breath of relief. He must've gone unconscious from the pain and the loss of blood.

"Dorian, just hang on," I whisper. I pull his head onto my lap, brushing his matted blond hair away from his face. "Stay with me." I consider pulling out the knife in his chest, but fear that I might do more harm than good.

I wait until two soldiers come to help move Dorian. They grab him by the shoulders and ankles, carrying his unconscious body to a van. I am by his side the entire ride, praying for him to try clinging onto life.

The second we arrive at the hospital, he is whisked away by doctors. I end up pacing back and forth in the waiting room for hours due to worry and anxiety. I _need_ Dorian to pull through the operation. I can't lose him; he's one of the few people I can trust these days.

"June!" Selene says from across the room, heading towards me. "I got your call and came here as soon as I could. Is Dorian going to be alright?" she asks.

"I don't know yet," I say quietly, the words constricting my throat. "He lost so much blood…"

Selene catches the sadness lingering in my eyes and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "He'll be okay. I know he will be," she says. I look at her. This girl has lost _everything_. She was abandoned by her parents years ago. Her only sister was murdered and the killer is still on the loose. How can she find slivers of hope in a cruel world of darkness? How can she believe everything will be alright in the end?

Selene is so young, yet forced to mature and fend for herself. She's going through the same pain I went through twelve years ago, and I can barely help her cope with it. But the least I can do is fulfill Amy's wish to keep her safe. I will _never _let this sick murderer hurt Selene.

"June," says Tess, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"How is he?" I ask her as I turn to face her.

Tess tucks her hands in the pockets of her white doctor coat. "I managed to get the knife out- turns out that it didn't hit any vital organs. Luckily, the blade was lodged right between his heart and his lung, an inch away from his aorta. He should be waking up soon," she reports.

I sigh in relief. "Thank god. Tess, you're a miracle worker."

Tess slightly blushes at that. "Just another day of work," she says modestly. Tess leads me into a room where Dorian is resting peacefully on a hospital bed. When she sees that no one else is around, she faces me.

"June, I'm concerned about Day," she tells me. "He came to my apartment a few weeks ago saying that he murdered Metias."

"But he didn't," I say, confused. "Thomas did."

"I know. But Day thinks he did and he keeps tormenting himself over it. I think something's wrong with his memories. I told him he never murdered a person, but he doesn't seem to believe me," says Tess. "I think it's time we tell him everything to help fill in the gaps."

"But…but then he'll remember that I'm the reason his family is dead. I don't want to lose him."

"Day already forgave you for that," Tess points out.

"But what about this time? What if he changes his mind?" I ask. "I spent so many years without him, wishing he'd come back. And he finally did. So if he finds out, I'm scared he'll leave again."

"He'll forgive you if you tell him the truth. Do it before it's too late. And if he gets angry, Pascao and I will convince him that it wasn't your fault," says Tess.

"Thanks Tess," I say. "Thank you for everything."

She nods. Behind me, Dorian lets out a groan. I look to him, a soft smile on my face. "You're awake," I say.

Tess checks his vitals and heartbeat before declaring everything was in order and alright. She leaves the room for us to talk. "How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Like I've been dragged to hell and back," he says, grunting. He sits up from the bed.

"I was so worried…I thought you were going to die," I whisper. "What happened?"

"I was on patrol when I heard a scream. I ran over to the sound, but no one was there. And then I saw him- the killer was dressed completely in black and was exactly like you described him," he says.

"How do you know it's a he?"

"It's most likely a man. The killer's shoulders were too broad. We were wrong; the killer can't be Jameson," says Dorian. "And besides, even if Jameson somehow survived the fall at that last battle, she would be in her late sixties by now. She can't be the one killing everyone."

"What if it's someone avenging her?" I press. "Could Selene's theory be right?"

"I'm starting to doubt that theory," he says. "Selene thought that all the victims would be people who were at the last battle. But I wasn't there; I was still a cadet at the time and so was Liam Stryder.

"So Liam wasn't at that battle either?"

"No. I'm starting to remember some stuff. Liam and I were training together when we heard that there was a battle over at the Bank Tower."

"Great. We're back to where we started. So this killer has nothing to do with avenging Jameson. What does he want then?"

Dorian shrugs and painfully winces. He frowns before lifting the left sleeve of his hospital gown. Dorian rips off the bandage, revealing a carved number on his shoulder. "Son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath. "Looks like he left another clue."

I examine the wound. It seems to be a swift clean cut of the number 9. "What is with this killer and numbers? What is he, part-time mathematician, fulltime psychopath?" complains Dorian. Anger seethes in his eyes. "June, give me your knife."

I grip the hilt of my knife that hangs on my belt. "Why?" I ask.

"So I can cut this stupid number off my skin. I'm not living my entire life with this branded on me," he says.

"Later, when you're all healed," I say firmly. "Tess would freak out if I let one of her patients deliberately hurt themselves."

Dorian relents. "Fine," he says, although he doesn't sound too pleased.

I'm about to leave the room when the lights above begin to flicker and suddenly turns off completely. The room is dark and for a moment, completely silent. The lights come back on. It repeats, the lights turning off and on as if a toddler was playing with the light switch.

I look down the hallway to see if other rooms are experiencing the same effect. Each room is blinking at its own pace, exchanging light and darkness every few seconds.

Tess rushes back. "Something's wrong," she gasps out. "This hospital has several backup generators- this shouldn't be happening."

"So what's going on?" I ask.

"Someone's hacking into the system," Dorian realizes.

"Who'd want to do that?" asks Tess.

"The killer," I whisper. "He's back to finish his job."

Dorian tries to stand up, one hand gripping the knife wound. His face is dangerously pale as he struggles to walk. I help support him, leading him back to the hospital bed. "You have to stay here," I say. "You can barely walk."

"You have to let me help!" he says stubbornly. "I doubt the killer is here for just me. This psycho is toying with us. Every time the power shuts off, there's a huge chance that a patient depending on life support and machines will die. I'm your best chance of blocking the hacker and setting the power in the hospital back to normal."

The lights flicker and go out again.

I realize he's right. He's a better hacker than me and can probably fix this in a few minutes. Tess brings over a wheelchair from across the room. "Don't strain yourself," she warns as we help him into it. "Your stitches might snap and the wound will reopen."

I wheel him out of the room, heading towards the main computers in the lobby. There's chaos in the entire hallway. The power constantly shuts down and restarts in different rooms at different times, making it unpredictable to know which poor patients will fall victim to it. Anyone connected to something mechanical that helps them survive is vulnerable to death now.

Tess leaves my side to go back to the surgery wing. We push our way past frantic nurses. I flash my I.D. to one of the nurses, who grants me access to the computers. Dorian wheels himself to the computers, his fingers beginning to fly expertly over the keyboard.

The computers here in the lobby don't seem to be affect by the constant power outages. Strangely, they continue to work despite it.

Selene rushes to me. "What can I do?" she asks.

"Just go around and help anyone who needs assistance," I tell her.

"Okay."

"And Selene?" I say after a sudden impulse. "Stay safe." She nods before she disappears into the tide of frantic hospital staff.

After she's gone, I look over Dorian's shoulder to see the computer. The screen is filled with green letters and numbers. I try following along, but realize it's futile- Metias was the one who could understand computers, not me. Dorian catches my confusion and begins to explain each step as he completes it.

"It's a virus that entered through one of the computer systems," he says. "Most likely in the form of an external drive, like a flash drive. The killer must've plugged it into a computer somewhere in the hospital."

I turn and stop a running nurse by grabbing her arm. "Where else are the computers located at?" I ask.

"The control room in the basement," she answers quickly. "That's where all the data and hard drives for the computers are." I thank her and let go of her arm, turning my attention back to Dorian.

"June, I called in my squad to surround the hospital. That way no suspects can get out until we fix this," says Dorian as he types more commands into the computer. "As for this, if we can't find where the virus originated, there's no way to stop it."

"I'll head to the control room then. We need to end this before more people die."

"I wish I could go but I doubt I can go down the stairs in a wheelchair," says Dorian apologetically. "But when you find the flash drive, open it on a computer and type in a few commands." He begins to scribble down a list of commands on a notepad and hands it to me.

"Got it," I say. "Keep contact with coms, okay?"

"Okay. I'll start creating security barriers in the system so the hacker can't get back in," he says.

I nod before I go down the stairs, entering the long hallway. I quickly walk around until I find the right door.

The control room is filled with several large machines, all connected to three main computers. And just like the computers at the lobby, they are unaffected by the virus because it is where the virus operates.

A realization crosses my mind. Every hospital machine is connected to a computer, so the only way to stop this virus is to either pull the plug on everything electronic, or find the flash drive. Too many people will lose their lives if I choose the former, but the latter will still manage to take innocent lives. I hate the odds of both choices.

I search for the flash drive, looking through every possible place where it could be plugged into. I find it almost immediately, noticing its pathetic attempt to camouflage to the black machine.

After checking to see which of the three computers it's plugged into, I log on as the administrator and override the computer, just like Dorian said to. I open the single file on the flash drive.

When I click on it, a new window pops up, demanding for the password to shut down the virus. I groan in frustration.

I try turning on my com, but it doesn't seem to work now. Suddenly, a static sound crackles to life in my ear. "Hello June," says a voice I don't recognize. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Who is this?" I demand my heart beginning to race.

The voice on the other end chuckles darkly. "I'm quite disappointed. I thought you'd be clever enough to at least figure out who I am."

"You're the killer," I realize. "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, I just thought you needed some assistance with that computer. You may be smart when taking written exams but when it comes to the field, you're absolutely useless," he says. "It's a shame; your brother always wanted to teach you computers but you were too stubborn to learn."

I freeze. "How did you know that? How did you know about my brother?"

The killer chuckles again. "Oh Little Iparis, haven't you learned? I know everything. And I'm _always_ watching your every move."

Hesitating, I turn to the corner, seeing the security camera perched on the wall. The killer must be watching me from that camera.

"What do you really want?" I ask, not bothering to hide the rage in my voice.

"Closure," he answers after a moment of pausing. "And the only way to get closure is to get revenge."

"What have I ever done to you? I don't even know who you are!"

"One day, Little Iparis, you'll know. You'll know _everything. _But let's focus on this day for now, shall we? How many people will die today because of you? How much blood will you have on your hands? All of that depends on you," he says.

"Shut it down!" I yell at him. "Shut it down or I swear-"

"Or what? You'll kill me?" He begins to laugh humorously. "That's if you can catch me. I'm found only when I want to be found."

"Then you made a dumb mistake by calling me. Every call I get is automatically recorded, and once I get back to my office, I can voice scan this and find out who you are," I say.

"So predictable," he sneers. My smugness fades away. "There are thousands of apps that allow you to change your voice when calling someone. You thought I'd be foolish enough to talk to you in my regular voice? You have so much to learn, Little Iparis."

As we talk, I begin typing in several different passwords, hoping I'd be lucky enough to crack it.

"That's going to take all day," the killer sneers. He pauses. "But today, I'm feeling generous. I'll give you a hint on the password."

My instincts are screaming to not fall for it, but I'm desperate- I need to save as many people as I can. "Name your price," I say.

"Take it as a gift. Besides, you already gave me what I needed today," he says triumphantly. "But as promised, a hint to your password: it's the day when it all started. And I'll be very disappointed if you can't figure this easy password out."

"I can't wait for the day we can finally meet face to face," says the killer. Just the sound of his voice sends chills down my spine. The com begins to grow static, the connection fading away.

I turn to the computer, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I try remembering notable dates he might be referring to. _The day when it all started. _I take a deep breath, coming up with day I'll remember forever. The day Metias was murdered.

That was the day my life was changed completely. I lost my brother; I graduated early out of Drake and became an agent. I began my search for his murderer, only to fall in love with the supposed suspect. It was that day that changed my future and brought me to where I am today, setting off a chain reaction of event after event.

Slowly, I begin to type in the password. November29th2132. I press enter.

Red letters flash across the dull gray background, declaring "Access Granted." From then on, the rest of it is easy. I follow Dorian's list of commands, effectively destroying the virus. Once I'm done, I pull the flash drive out of the machine.

As I return to the lobby, I am greeted with Dorian's relieved smile. "You did it," he says. "I knew you could."

The power has returned back to normal, the lights settling back down. I should feel happy but all I can feel is the guilt and shame gnawing at my stomach. I took advice from the killer and despite what he said, I know there's a hidden price to pay. There is always a price.

This was all too easy. The flash drive was in plain sight, the killer practically gave me the password. I get it now- his goal wasn't to kill people by messing around with the power. That was only a distraction for his real objective- one I've yet to figure out.

"How many?" I ask hoarsely when Tess returns.

Her face is grave. "Three," she says. "But it could've been more if you hadn't found a way to stop it."

"June?" Dorian calls over my attention. "I think you should see this." He leads me back to his hospital room. There's a number painted right above his bed in red; the number 74. "It's another clue."

"But three people died today. Why is there only one number?" I ask.

"I don't know," Dorian replies distantly as he studies the spray-painted number. A million different thoughts seem to be running in his dark blue eyes.

I look back at the number, finding the message clear. This killer wants revenge, and will take as many lives as he can. This is all just a big game to him. He finds it _entertaining_ to murder the innocent. And I realize this- the game is nowhere near over. It's only just begun.

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far! **

**Also, please forgive me if I used any incorrect info on computers/ hacking. I'm no tech expert and I ended up making a lot of it up without researching...**


	12. Chapter 12: Day

**Again, I'm really sorry for the late update. It's hard to write with a busy school schedule. But I promise to update the next chapter sooner!**

Day

The lights slowly brighten the movie theater as the credits begin to roll. I get up from the comfy red seat, stretching. "That was a pretty good movie, wasn't it?" I say to June.

"I suppose so," she answers as she follows me out the theater and to the cold, dark street. "Although there were a few minor mistakes."

"Like?"

"Well, about thirty-six minutes in, there was a scene where he was wearing a blue collared shirt with nine buttons. But when they cut to the second frame, he was then wearing a collared shirt that only had seven," she explains.

I shake my head, smiling admirably at her. "Always catching even the smallest details. I don't know how you do it, June." We cross the street, heading towards her apartment in Ruby.

She shrugs. "It's just something I was born with. I unconsciously manage to trap details in my mind."

"And this is why you're known as the Republic's prodigy," I say proudly, wrapping my arm around her.

"I'm not a prodigy," she brushes it off modestly. "There are plenty of other people who are capable of the things I can do."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? I beg to differ. The last time I checked, you were a field agent at 15, a Princep at 17, and the Lead Commander of California by 23. I doubt there is anyone else out there who is as intelligent and successful as you."

June opens her mouth to reply, but her eyebrows are furrowed together as she focuses on something far off in the dark night. Her eyes widen, and she shoves me away a split second before I hear the gunshot. The bullet ricochets off the brick wall, only a few feet away from where my head was. June pulls me into a nearby alley with a dead end, hiding us from shooting range.

Her hand instinctively reaches for her left ear, where her com should be, but comes up empty. "Stupid," she scolds herself. "I left it in my apartment."

As a second plan, June pulls a small handgun out of the purse hanging from her shoulder, firing back at the shooter. She seems to be analyzing and calculating the vantage point of the gunman before she fires back with accuracy.

I follow her gaze, catching a glimpse of the shooter perched on the roof of a six-storied building across the street. He's wearing dark clothing and a mask, gripping a heavy rifle over his shoulder.

More bullets begin to rain down, all burying into the brick wall we're hiding behind. "I only have two bullets left," whispers June as she fires futility back. Her small handgun is no match for the military rifle in the shooter's hands.

"Why is he firing at us?" I ask, pulling June deeper into the dark alley when a bullet dangerously hits too close. Her back is pressed against my chest as we evade the retaliating ammunition.

I feel her heart racing quickly, and her breathing unsteady. She tries her best to mask it, but I know deep down, she's _terrified_. "I don't know," she whispers back, her eyes searching for a way to escape. In the dim light of the street lamps, I realize there's blood dripping out of a cut on the side of her head. She must've scraped her head against the wall when she pulled me into the alley.

The shooter's aim seems to be improving, the bullets landing closer and closer to where we are. June curses under her breath and fires her last shots in vain. Her bullets only graze the base of the roof he's standing on.

"We're screwed," I murmur. The streets are empty, no soldiers in sight. And no one's going to take notice of the gunshots, since we're right near Batalla Hall's training center. People hearing these shots will probably assume that they were coming from a soldier's late night practice.

"Any way to escape?" June asks, her focus still locked on trajectory pattern of the bullets.

"Not any we can get to," I whisper back. There's a ladder hanging from about three stories high, but there's no way we can reach it; there are no window ledges to assist in scaling up the wall. We're trapped like cornered mice.

Suddenly louder gunshots echo in the night, but they're not aimed towards us. I look up at the roof of the building we're hiding behind, seeing a smaller armed figure firing back at the shooter.

"Did you call backup?" I ask June, but there's confusion written all over her face.

"I didn't," says June, squinting at the soldier on the roof. "I don't have my com."

The soldier continues to fire at the shooter until a bullet knocks the gun out of his hands. The gun falls six floors down to the ground, making a loud clatter as metal meets concrete. The soldier fires twice more after the shooter that has miraculously disappeared back to the darkness.

Both of us are looking at the soldier that saved our lives as they hook a rope on a balcony and climb down. "Thank you," I tell them as they let go of the rope and land in front of us.

The figure throws off the hood covering their face, revealing one I recognize.

"Selene?!" June exclaims, half outraged, half astonished.

The girl grins cheekily, proud of herself.

"Who gave you that gun?" she asks, concerned.

"Dorian," she says.

June narrows her eyes. "Dorian wouldn't do that," she says, picking out the lie.

"Well, technically he didn't because he was still sleeping in the hospital so I just thought he wouldn't mind," she says while shrugging. "Besides, what's the big deal?"

"Don't do that again!" she shouts at Selene. "You could've gotten hurt!"

"And if I didn't, you two would've faired up worse," she replies back coolly.

"She has a point," I offer. "Give Selene a break; she saved us both."

June glares at me momentarily. "Not helping," she growls.

"Just saying," I mutter.

She turns back to her. "How did you know where we were, anyways?"

"I was following the killer. I had a hunch that he'd go after Tess next, so I was patrolling near her apartment until I saw him on the roof. And then I saw you guys running so I decided to climb the building cause I had a better aim from there," she explains.

"Wait, what? What killer? And why is he going after us and Tess?" I ask. June looks at me, unable to find a way to explain. "Well?" I demand. "I have a right to know."

"I'll explain later," she says apologetically. I frown at her, although I choose not to press any questions.

Meanwhile, Selene has jogged across the street and returned with the gun she had shot out of the killer's hand. "This has a fingerprint log. We'll be able to see exactly who the killer is," she says, interrupting us.

"But why didn't he take it?" June wonders out loud. "It's a careless move." Her eyes are calculating, thinking of all the reasons why. Suddenly her eyes widen, and her face pales.

"What is it?" says Selene.

"It was a distraction," June whispers. "He was just playing with us, making us think that we won. That's why he dropped the gun and disappeared- he wanted us to think that he was running away, but really he was heading to his next target."

"Who's his next target?" I ask.

Her next words are almost inaudible, as if she's praying that she isn't right. "Tess," she whispers. "He's after Tess."

**Review!**


	13. Chapter 13: June

**This chapter kinda sucks but I just needed something to happen so I can move to the better scenes that'll come later on it the story.**

**June**

**Friday, 2322**

**Primo Road**

**54 º Fahrenheit**

The second those words utter from my mouth, I don't wait for Day and Selene to react. I begin to take off toward Tess's building, my footsteps loud and thumping against the asphalt streets, unlike my usual deliberate and quiet stride. If the killer is close, I want him to hear me. I want him to know I will find and capture him. And he will rue the day he ever thought he could mess with the people I love.

There are approximately 310 feet between me and her building. I'm covering 5 feet per second, meaning it will take me 62 seconds to just get to the front door. From there, I'd have to climb 8 flights of stairs (208 steps). Even if I skip one or two steps at a time, it'll take me about 70 seconds, meaning that the fastest I can get to Tess would be about 132 seconds, or two minutes and 12 seconds. That's not fast enough.

I wish I hadn't gone on a date with Day, I wish I hadn't let my guard down. I should've known better. And now, because of me, my best friend is going to die.

I push myself to go faster, my legs screaming for me to stop as I run up the stairs. The twenty pound gun strapped to my shoulder weighs me down. My lungs feel raw, my heart thumping hard as if it's readying to rip out of my chest. I try to steady myself, breathing through my mouth to suck in the air my lungs beg for.

6th floor.

7th floor.

8th floor. I finally reach Tess's level, sparing just one second to catch my breath. Footsteps echo in the stairwell after me. I glance down, seeing Day running up from the 3rd floor, a rifle in his hand.

I don't wait for him to catch up to me. I take the gun off my shoulders, gripping it with both hands as I run down the hall, turning the corner to where her apartment is. With the gun, I fire at the locked doorknob, kicking the door open once the handle falls off.

A knife immediately flies towards my head, but my instincts take over and I use my gun to deflect it. It hits the wall next to me, scraping the plaster and falling to the floor. I turn and aim the gun at the figure dressed in black, but he kicks it out of my hands. It skitters about 7 feet across the hardwood floors.

My eyes search for Tess as I fight with the killer. She's in the corner 15 feet away, tied and unresponsive. Fresh blood is dripping down her temple, covering half of her face with crimson. Her chest moves slightly; she must have been knocked unconscious.

I focus my attention back on the masked killer, who throws a punch at me. _Left handed, _I note as I dodge the first one. I retaliate, clipping him in the forehead with my foot. He stumbles back but quickly recovers, throwing another punch that slams into my jaw. My head snaps back, dark spots momentarily forming in my vision, rendering me lightheaded and dizzy.

I shake it off. We fight hand to hand, each dodging the other's punches and kicks. We are an equal match to each other. I begin to pick up details about him. He's about 5 feet 11, left handed but right footed, and displays both military styles and ones I've never seen before. His next moves are always unpredictable, keeping me on my toes. _Who is he?_

I successfully kick him again, taking the opportunity to reach for the four inch knife he had thrown earlier. He charges at me; I hurl the knife point blank. The killer sees the knife, but fails to dodge it. It buries into the right side of his chest, lodging directly under his collarbone.

He groans in pain and begins to fumble for something clipped to his belt. My eyes widen when I see the small metallic object he holds. Instinctively, I move towards the corner where Tess lies unconscious.

I shield her with my body as a loud pop deafens my left ear. White noise pierces my brain; for a moment, I am unable to comprehend what is going on. Plumes of white smoke form thick clouds, filling the apartment. _Tear gas_, I recognize as I begin to feel the effects of it. My eyes begin to sting, irritated tears welling up. I stumble backwards, furiously rubbing my eyes in vain, the tear gas blinding me. I cough as it slips into my lungs.

"June!" I hear Day shouting faintly.

"I'm here!" I choke out. I feel his muscular arm wrap around my waist, supporting me as he pulls me up. I lean into him and let him guide me against. My hands find a cold wall. Day helps me lean against it before he leaves to get Tess. I slide it the floor, continuously blinking and trying to regain my vision.

Even after a few minutes, my vision is still completely dark. Panic wells up in my chest but I force it down, remembering the procedures Metias once taught me. _Tear gas contains __phenacyl chloride. Once it gets in your eyes, you have to either wash it out or dilute it until you can find water. _I begin to force out tears to clear my eyes of the chemicals.

"Can you see?" Day asks.

"No," I murmur, trying to hide the panic and fear in my voice. "Everything's dark."

"You have to get her water to wash it out," I hear Tess faintly muttering to Day. The sound of his footsteps getting fainter tells me he's gone back to get some.

I sit up in surprise, directing my head to where the voice is coming from. "Are you okay, Tess?"

"Yes," she replies. "You took most of the blow for the tear gas. Thank you."

"It was the least I could do," I say guiltily. "I still couldn't save you from getting hurt."

"But I wasn't hurt. I was just knocked unconscious," she says.

"So nothing else hurts? Do you feel any shallow cuts anywhere in your body?" I ask.

"None."

I frown in confusion and lean my head against the wall. The killer had enough time to finish off Tess. But why didn't he? What new game is he playing?

"Do you remember anything?" I ask her. I keep up the interrogating conversation to keep my mind off the fact that I'm temporarily blind.

"Bits and pieces; my head still hurts," Tess says apologetically. "I just remember turning around and seeing him right behind me. I don't know if he came from the window or if he somehow managed to open my door. And then he slammed the hilt of his knife into temple." She pauses. "Before I fell unconscious, he- he whispered something in my ear. They were just numbers."

"What numbers were they?"

She decisively repeats it as if the killer's voice is haunting her. "Sixty. Fifty-three. Eighteen."

I instantly memorize the numbers, running each one through my head for any clues or significance._ 9, 15, 16, 16, 18, 53, 53, 60, 74, 92._ What do they mean? What is the killer trying to tell me?

"Got the water," announces Day's rumbling voice, snapping me out of my heavy pondering. "Also managed to call an ambulance for Tess with a neighbor's com."

"I don't need an ambulance," I hear Tess protest weakly.

"Yes you do," Day insists. "I think you have a concussion or something." I feel a small breeze as he briskly turns back to face me. His warm hand cradles my head and tilts it slightly upwards. Cold water runs down my face in a soothing, gentle stream. I rub my eyes, making sure the liquid clears out the residual tear gas. I blink a few more times until color suddenly flashes across my vision.

My sight returns slowly, first the colors, followed by the clarity. A relieved sigh escapes my lips; I don't know what I would've done if I had been rendered blind for my entire life. To never see Day, my friends, or another picture of my deceased family- that would truly be torment.

I look up and see Day break into a smile once he realizes that my sight is back. He offers a hand to help pick me up and I take it, rising to my feet. His finger grazes across the cut across my lip and his countenance becomes scolding. "That was a stupid thing to do," he reproaches, examining for other injuries. "You could've been killed."

"I had to," I state firmly. "And I don't regret it."

"You've become reckless," he says, shaking his head. "What happened to you, June? You used to be calculating, planning your every move before you did anything."

"That was before this killer came along. Before I helplessly watched him take innocent lives. Calculating everything…it's starting to take too long. I have fewer options than I did before and I can't spare any time to stop."

"You'd be safer if you thought through everything," he says. "You once told me that the reason I lost fights was because I panicked- because I didn't play my strengths and went headlong into combat. I think that's happening to you. You're so scared that the killer's going to take another life that you don't strategize anything. All you can think of is doing your best to save whomever."

My voice hitches when I speak. "I've watched too many people die, watched too many of them be ripped away from those they love. I can't keep pretending that I'm used to it, because I'm never going to be. And if I can save someone, I'm going to do everything I can. Even if it means I have to put a bullet through the killer's head."

Day glances down at me sorrowfully, like a parent realizing that their child has stopped listening to them. "I know I can't stop you," he says in defeat. "You're not the same person as the girl I remember. You've changed. And I'm scared that this change will end up hurting you." He pauses and looks directly at my eyes. "But please...don't let this killer get into your head. Don't let him turn you into something you're not." He lets go of my arm, turning around. Day scoops up a lethargic Tess into his arms, carrying her down the stairs and towards the ambulance waiting in the front.

I stand there, using the wall as support as I look at Day's retreating figure. He is right; I have changed quite a bit. But there's one thing he doesn't know: time has passed, and it's changed him too.


	14. Chapter 14: Day

**I feel like I'm saying this for literally the hundredth time but I am again sorry for not being able to update sooner. I'm struggling to find time to write these days. But I am definitely going to try updating more often despite having to do extracurriculars and homework.**

Day

"Where are you going?" Eden asks, watching me pull on a wool coat. "It's a Saturday."

"Just going to catch up with an acquaintance," I lie, my body becoming tense.

Eden seems to catch the lie and frowns. "Where are you really going?"

For a moment, I hesitate. I don't want to tell him the truth, but at the same time, I don't want to lie to him. It is only when I remember Eden's a grown man do I decide that he should hear the truth. "I need to talk to Anden," I say. "He's the only one that can keep June safe."

Eden frowns again. "Keep her safe from what? June's a commander. She has plenty of soldiers to protect her, that is, if she even needs any." He sets down the mug of black coffee he's drinking and adjusts his thick glasses.

"Perhaps," I say, "but she's still in danger." I lower my voice and step closer to Eden. "Someone's after June, someone who wants to _kill _her. I can't let them hurt her."

"Has she told anyone?"

I shake my head. "Maybe a few, but not everyone. She's trying to hide this from people because she thinks she can handle it alone. But she _can't_."

"Wait…" Eden lingers for a moment before he returns to his question. "If she's trying to keep it from everyone, then why did she tell you?"

"I don't think she ever intended on telling me," I admit, the feeling of betrayal seeping back into my heart. "It wasn't until after he started shooting at us did she finally confess. For over two _months_, she kept quiet and lied to my face whenever I asked about what she was working on. And if it weren't for that attack three days ago, I'd probably still be clueless of her life constantly being in danger."

"I'm sure June had a good reason," Eden tries reassuring me. "She was protecting you."

I let out a bitter laugh as I turn my back to my brother. "How ironic it is, that she is the one that needs more protection than any of us." My hand wraps around the copper doorknob, twisting it open. I throw a "bye" over my shoulder as I walk out of the apartment.

When I finally reach the Elector's building after a twenty minute drive, I take a moment just to take in how opulent and over-extravagant it is. The one-sided windows seem to sparkle like diamonds when the sunlight shines against it, and each is framed with fancy silver borders.

The guard standing in the front immediately opens the bulletproof glass doors for me once a glint of recognition sparks in his eyes. "Mr. Wing," he says respectfully, nodding towards me.

"Thank you," I say, stepping into the well air-conditioned building. Damn, the inside of the building is more lavish and sickening than its exterior. A crystal chandelier, accompanied by more bright lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating the floor below and causes my eyes to readjust. Does the Elector want to blind every single visitor he has with these damn goddy lights?

I walk up to the reception desk, where a woman my age sits behind. Everything about her seems gloomy and somber, from the dark circles under her eyes that makeup fails to hide to her blond hair that limply frames her blank face. "Hi," I say, propping myself against the desk using my elbows. "I'd like to arrange a meeting with the Elector as soon as possible."

She looks quite annoyed, as if she's heard this request a million times. "The Elector is a very busy man. He does not have time to have meetings with his citizens," she tells me without ever looking up from her computer screen.

"I'm sure he'll make an exception for me," I say. "I'm an old friend of his."

The woman finally looks up, her eyes widening and her lips parting into a small o when she recognizes me. "I'm so sorry Mr. Wing," she stammers out. "I'll try arranging a meeting for you as soon as possible." She makes a frantic grab for her com machine and dials in a number.

"Sir? Yes, I'm very sorry for the inconvenience but Daniel Wing requested for a meeting." She pauses, listening to him. "Yes, he's in the lobby right now. Yes sir." The receptionist hangs up the com and looks up at me. "The Elector wants you to come up to his office," she says. I thank her and make my way to the elevator, jabbing button number 70.

I'm about to knock on his hand carved wooden door when a crackling noise in my ear stops me. I wince as the static becomes louder and clearer. "Hello Day," says a raspy voice at the other end. "Or do you prefer being called Daniel?" it muses.

I frown, suspicion already flickering in my chest. "Who is this?" I hiss into my com in a low voice.

"I've almost forgotten- we've never had the pleasure of meeting in person. But soon, I promise you, we can talk face to face," he says.

"You're the killer, aren't you?" I realize. "What the hell do you want?"

"I for one, already have just about everything I need. I'm only calling to give you a small, helpful tip."

"Which is?" I ask, guarded.

"Telling others about your problems never benefit you. All it does is create new problems to take care of," he says.

"Some crappy tip you have," I sneer at him. "You're _scared_, aren't you? You don't want me to tell the Elector of what's been going on, right? 'Cause guess what? I'm standing right outside his goddy office."

To my confusion, the killer just chuckles humorously. "You think I'm scared of a man wielding such weak power and fragile alliances? Oh Daniel, you have so much to learn, just like your precious little girlfriend. I'm here to _help _you Daniel, to get you to make the right decisions." He pauses. "So listen, for once in your short-lived life. Whining about me running loose in this city doesn't stop the fact that I'm still out there, targeting everyone you care for. In fact, it is actually quite helpful rather than hindering. You're just giving me more targets to add to my list."

"You're a sick bastard," I snarl.

He laughs again. "Oh, as if everyone else isn't?"

"You try acting like it doesn't matter, but I know you're desperate," I say. "Once the Elector knows, every soldier in the Republic will be after you until you're chased out of your comfortable little hiding place. They will end your sick game before you can even finish it."

"Do you play chess Daniel?" he asks abruptly, as if a new thought has bubbled into his mind. "Well, if you do, you would know every game comes with prices, tragic sacrifices. And ending it before every move can be well thought out will only bring more losses, perhaps even blow up the entire battlefield. Imagine yourself as the king of the game, and June as the queen. Would you really sacrifice your queen to end the game?" Dark amusement dances in his voice.

"You wouldn't _dare_," I snarl at him.

"Oh, I am not daring. I am only warning you of the consequences that are to come if you do not heed the tip I have given you," he corrects.

"So if I tell the Elector of what you've done, you'll kill June?" My voice shakes with anger and fear.

"I'm glad we're on the same page. But it isn't just telling the Elector. If you open your mouth to anyone about me or what I'm telling you now then, well, I guess I've already made it clear of who will suffer." I can almost hear the smile in his voice.

"You son of a bitch," I growl.

"Listen Daniel," the killer hisses. "I am being _fair._ I am not counting the slipup you made this morning with Eden. If I did, your precious girl would already be dead. So be _grateful_ I play by the rules."

"What rules? All you do is murder the innocent. How is that playing by the rules?"

"One day, you'll understand," he sighs. "You'll be able to pull all the pieces together and realize that all this has been a fair path into getting closure. But until then, I'm sure we'll have another nice, long chat like this. See you around Daniel."

The crackling sound of static fills my ear once again as he ends the call. It is only when I touch my arm do I realize I have goose bumps. His warning echoes in my head as I stare at the Elector's door: _would you really sacrifice your queen to end the game?_

I back away from the door slowly, before turning and walking quickly to the elevator. I know it is selfish and stupid of me to do this, to risk the lives of several people in exchange for one. June would hate me for this if she knew. But she doesn't know.

The elevator doors close, shutting away the view of the 70th floor as it sinks smoothly back down to the lobby. I feel sick. Did I really do the right thing? How many people are going to die because of the decision I made today?

I am falling through a spiral of helplessness. I now understand why June has been so reckless- the killer knows how to manipulate and fuel desperation. But this…this has to end. _I _need to end this, not by hiding behind the Elector and his soldiers, but by stopping the killer myself. I will find him. And when that day comes, I will make him regret ever trying to threaten me and the people I love.

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	15. Chapter 15: June

June

**0811 Hours.**

**Batalla Hall**

**57º Indoors**

"I'm sorry Selene, but the decision's final," I tell her firmly as we walk down the hallway.

Her green eyes are filled with anger. "You can't just transfer me to get a new shadow! I'm supposed to be shadowing you!"

"Don't worry, your new shadow will be able to teach you things I can't," I say hollowly. "Pascao is more than qualified—he trains cadets. And besides, you'd see more action shadowing him than me."

"I know what you're doing, June!" Selene says. "You're just trying to cut me out of the investigation!"

I stop walking and face her. "Okay, fine, that's the real reason. The chase after the killer has gotten too dangerous, and I don't want you to be a part of that," I admit.

"I can handle it," she argues.

"I know you can," I reassure her. "But Amy made me promise to keep you safe. I intend to keep that promise."

"Amy's dead, and so is the promise!" Selene shouts in frustration. Her voice echoes in the corridor. "I've spent every day of my life for the past five months looking for clues and trying to figure out why in the world someone would want to kill my sister." Tears begin to fill her eyes. "We're finally one step closer to catching the killer, and you have no right to deny me new information on him."

"It was my mistake to drag you into this in the first place. You're still a child, Selene. And you shouldn't have to spend every day of your life fearing if you're the next target. So I'm going to switch you to a new shadow, one who is capable of actually teaching you how to operate in the fields."

"Shadowing Pascao won't stop me from finding the killer. No matter what you do, I'll never stop looking," she says. Another angry tear rolls down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, but this is for your own good," I tell her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Selene harshly jerks away, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of her blue sweatshirt. "I'll give you three days to collect the stuff you left in my office. But after that, you're going to start shadowing Pascao."

"I will never stop looking until I find answers," she repeats resolutely before she storms away. Her words leave me with regret; she sounds so much like my teenage self. If someone had stopped me from searching for Metias' killer, I would've reacted the same way Selene did. I shake the feeling away and walk in the opposite direction from where Selene went.

I avert my eyes from anyone else as I walk down the corridors, passing by the military training rooms at Batalla Hall on the way. A familiar young man in one of the rooms catches my eye. I stop for a moment, peering into the window.

Sweat drips down from his forehead as he slams his fists into a punching bag in the same manner any other soldier in training would do. His long blond curls are now gone, replaced by a short buzz cut that seems almost unfitting of the boy — no, _man_ — I know.

"Eden?" I murmur to myself as I watch him display his skill in combat. A scowl is engraved on his face as he continues to throw punches, mainly favoring his left hand. I watch him for a few more moments, a cold chill runs down my back. This is the little boy I've known, the boy I thought I knew. But the scary thing is, I can no longer recognize who Eden is.

I snap out of the daze, quickly beginning to walk again before he looks up. I head for the restricted corridor of Batalla Hall, which is where all the evidence is processed. Dorian is already in one of the rooms, his back to me as he types something on the desktop computer.

I knock on the open door. Dorian turns, a smile forming on his face when he sees me. "Hey June," he greets warmly.

"Hey," I say. "When did you get here?"

"About thirty minutes ago. They released me from the hospital just a few hours ago."

"And you decided to come straight back to work?" I say, rolling my eyes. "You know, I would've given you a couple of days to rest if you had just asked."

"Well, I've had enough days to rest. And besides, I miss being here and feeling useful," he says.

I watch him reassemble the pieces on the table back into a gun. "Is that the one—"

"—that the killer dropped? Yes, yes it is," Dorian answers. "It was in really bad shape, so I couldn't fix it entirely. But I managed to recover the fingerprint log of the users." He pulls out a microchip from the side of the gun with a pair of silver tweezers and inserts it into a black box the size of my fist. "Let's see who this killer really is," he murmurs as he pushes the green button on the box.

The image of the fingerprint pops up on the screen of the computer. Almost immediately, a program opens up in a new window, the same program that identified Liam Stryder's fingerprints on Amy's murder weapon.

Multiple faces flit across the screen as the computer tries to match the fingerprint with its owner. "Are you sure it will work?" I ask skeptically after a minute and seven seconds pass.

"It will," Dorian insists. "It's only taking long because it's scanning all 350 million Republic citizens, not just the ones in California."

The computer lets out two triumphant beeps, a photo of a young man appearing on the bright screen. Under it shows a box of information consisting of a name, age, and address.

I focus on the photo. For a few moments, I forget to breathe. My eyes widen as I recognize the boy I've known since I was a teenager. The picture is of Eden Bataar Wing.

I back away from the computer, shaking my head. "It can't be him," I say numbly as I stare at the screen. "Run the program again. It must be a mistake."

Dorian sighs and starts up the program for the second time. It matches the fingerprint to Eden again. "It has to be a mistake," I repeat. "Eden wouldn't— he can't be the killer."

"The database clearly says the fingerprint belongs to Eden," says Dorian. "And the log shows that the gun was used at 2332 hours on the day you and Daniel were ambushed. It all matches—the time, date, and location."

"He's being framed," I insist. "The killer wants it to be another Liam Stryder case."

"And what if it isn't?" Dorian questions. "What if you're making a mistake this time?"

"But it would be a mistake to jump to conclusions again and arrest Eden. And Eden is an old friend of mine. I don't believe he could be the killer."

Dorian puts his hands on his temples. "Ugh, this is giving me a damn headache. None of this makes sense." He looks up at me. "So what are we going to do now?" he asks.

"Delete your search history on the database and put the evidence where no one can find it," I say. "We will not arrest Eden or put surveillance on him unless we find more proof that he's actually the killer."

"June," Dorian begins slowly. "You do realize hiding the evidence is illegal? If anyone finds out what we're doing, you could lose your position as commander."

"I know," I say softly. "And I'm willing to take that risk if it means helping my friend."

Dorian shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath, something about me being too trustful. He begins to erase any traces of the fingerprint from the search history and hands me the only piece of evidence that claims Eden is the killer.

As I slip the microchip into my pocket, I have another sensation of a tugging in my gut. _Am I doing the right thing?_ I wonder to myself.

_Yes, you are June,_ my head reassures me. _You're being careful this time. That way, no one innocent will be convicted._

I take a deep breath and pull on a calm face as I thank Dorian and leave the room. My hands find themselves in my pockets as I walk to my office. All of this new evidence bothers me. Despite my best attempts to push it to the back of my head, the thought lingers and nips for attention.

_Eden is not the killer,_ I try to reassure myself but fail to. Usually I would able to trust my reassurances, but after Liam's death, after this, I don't know if I can trust my gut instincts anymore. Maybe this time I am right. Or maybe not.

**Please leave a review or comment and tell me what you think of my story so far! Also, I'd be really grateful if you guys could give me some feedback/ constructive criticism in order to improve my writing!**


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